


Something New

by Nahiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Harry, Asexual Neville, Divorce, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9806849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: With his children now at adulthood and his marriage to Ginny Weasley over, Harry is ready to start over as Hogwarts' new Defense Against Dark Arts professor.  He's convinced that he's going to live his life alone but Neville isn't so sure that's what's actually going to happen.  Neither quite understand their sexualities, but can they make things work together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry expresses some self-hatred in this fic, and does call himself broken. The author would simply like to state that she disagrees with Harry in this particular matter, and that she doesn't consider him to be broken at all.

 

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “You can do this, Potter,” he muttered to himself.  He could do this.  It wasn’t like this would be any harder, theoretically at least, than the job he’d done for the past two decades.  Hells, he’d practically done this job back in his fifth year of Hogwarts!  Now that he was in his forties, now that he’d actually been an Auror, it shouldn’t be any problem, right?

 

Right.

 

Harry took another deep breath and settled at the high table that overlooked the mostly empty Great Hall.  There were other professors milling about, including Neville, who had been the one to first tell Harry that Headmistress McGonagall was looking for a new Defense professor.  When he spotted Harry sitting at the table, he lit up and immediately made his way over.

 

“How are you, Harry?” the Herbology teacher asked, even as he settled in the chair next to Harry.  “Minerva never did tell us who was going to be taking over Defense this year.  Said she wanted it to be a surprise,” he added with a slight roll of his eyes.

 

Harry tried out a smile, and when his face didn’t break, he kept it on.  “I’m doing okay,” he said quietly.  “Still not sure this is the right move for me, but I do think that I need to try something new.  So here I am.  Trying something new.”  He breathed out in a small sigh.

 

“How’s the divorce going?” Neville asked, his voice gentling ever so slightly.

 

Harry flinched.  “The kids are pretty angry,” he said.  Then he laughed.  “Kids.  Like they’re not all graduated and out in the world, making their way.  They just… they just don’t understand why Ginny and I couldn’t make it work.”

 

Neville patted him on the shoulder.  “They’ll figure it out,” he said.  “How’s Ginny doing?”

 

Harry let out another small laugh.  “She’s good,” he said.  That was the one bright spot in all of this mess. Ginny didn’t hate him.  She understood, and that alone kept Harry from hating himself completely.  “She’s happier, I think, now that we’re not trying to make it work.  Honestly, I think we get along better now that we’re divorcing than we ever did while we were married.”

 

“It’s good that the two of you can get along though, right?” Neville didn’t shift from his side as the other teachers started to settle in at the table.  It was strange how many of them Harry still recognized, it almost felt oddly surreal.

 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, even as the students started to enter the hall.  He perked up a bit.  “Yeah.  It’s a good thing.  I just…”  He stopped.  This wasn’t the place to talk about the things he wished he understood, and Neville probably wasn’t the person to talk about them with.

 

Neville clapped him on the shoulder again, and the both of them turned their attention to the Sorting Hat when it began its annual song.  Harry was amused, and somewhat disheartened, to hear that even two decades after the end of the war, the Hat still sang about the need for loyalty between the houses.  

 

“Even now?” Harry muttered to Neville, who let out a small snort that drew the eyes of a few students.  There were a few whispers as those same students caught sight of who was sitting next to the Herbology Professor, and by the time the Sorting Hat had finished its yearly work, practically the entire student body was staring at Harry.

 

Harry, in turn, was staring down at his empty plate.  “Oh, this is awful,” he whispered, and felt Neville nudge him in the side.  “What?” he hissed.

 

“Look up, you.  You look like you’re intimidated by the students!” Neville hissed to him.

 

Harry didn’t look up.  “I am intimidated by the students,” he said quietly.

 

There was a small laugh from several seats down, and then he heard a chair scrape back.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Headmistress McGonagall said clearly into the hush that fell over the Great Hall.  “I know that typically announcements happen after the feast, but since you’ve all noticed our newest professor, perhaps I shall introduce him now so that you won’t all stare him into starvation while he attempts to eat his dinner?”

 

A wave of laughter spread out over the Great Hall, and Harry felt himself relaxing as the intensity of those stares lifted enough that he could breathe again.  He finally looked up and tried out a smile, and found that the majority of the faces still raised towards him were also smiling.  Right.  He was a teacher now; he could totally do this.

 

“Mr. Potter, if you would stand up?” McGonagall, who had insisted that Harry could call her Minerva even though Harry knew that he would never feel comfortable doing so, suggested.

 

“Yes, of course,” he said quickly.  He stood and half bowed to the students in front of him.

 

“Professor Potter is, of course, the former Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic.  He is also, yes, the Boy Who Lived, and did defeat Voldemort.  We’re very lucky to have him here, working to teach all of you how to defend yourselves from any future dangers you might encounter.  Perhaps we could give him a bit of a welcome?”

 

The applause was pretty close to thunderous, and Harry knew that he was blushing as he settled back into his seat.  The rest of the feast proceeded as normal, and Harry spent quite a bit of the time getting to know his fellow Professors from his now more equal standing.  Flitwick, who was also insisting that Harry call him Filius, was quite cheerful, more so than Harry had realized when he was a student.  And Trelawney was every bit as awful as Harry remembered.  Neville, though, was calm and quiet, and Harry found himself returning to conversation with his fellow Gryffindor more often than not.

 

All of the professors, including Minerva but excepting Trelawney, seemed convinced that Harry could handle teaching the students.  Neville, especially, seemed determined to drive that idea into Harry’s head, and spent a good half of the night reassuring him that he absolutely could do this.

 

As a result, by the time the feast ended and the students were dismissed for the night, Harry almost thought that maybe he could actually do this teaching thing.  Merlin knew he wouldn’t turn out as bad as, say, Lockhart had been.  Or Umbridge, for that matter.

 

Yeah.  He could do this.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He couldn’t do this.  Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly as he let his head slide forward to connect with the cool wood of his desk.  He really couldn’t do this.  He’d have to apologize to McGonagall, tell her that she’d made a mistake in hiring him, something.  That was assuming that she didn’t fire him, because that had been… that had been an absolute disaster.

 

There was a knock on the door, and Harry didn’t even bother to look up or shift from his slump.  “Come in!” he called, his words muffled by the desk.

 

He heard the door creak open, and then heard someone settle in the chair across from his desk.  “Really, Mr. Potter, can you be any more dramatic?” Headmistress McGonagall asked, her voice prim.

 

Harry winced and forced himself to sit up.  “I’m sure I can,” he said.  “Is… are they going to be okay?”  He’d done what he could to neutralize the effects of the curse, which they never should have been using since they were only third years, but…  but he wasn’t a Healer, and things could have gone very badly once they’d been taken to St. Mungo’s.  He just didn’t know.

 

“They’re going to be fine,” the Headmistress said with a dip of her head.  “So if that’s what those hysterics are for, you should probably stop.”

 

Harry sagged in relief.  “That’s good to hear,” he whispered.  He cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight.  “I should…  I’m just gonna go and pack my bags.  I’m sorry for accepting the job when I’m clearly in no way ready to be teaching.”

 

McGonagall’s eyebrows rose.  “Mr. Potter, really, did I say that I was firing you?” she asked sharply.

 

Harry blinked.  “I would think that their parents…”

 

“Are lecturing both of them for being so very stupid as to use a curse that’s not even taught here at Hogwarts, and are very grateful that you were the teacher and you managed to neutralize the worst of the effects,” she said sharply.  “Now, if this incident has made you decide that you would rather not be a teacher, that’s another matter entirely.  Is that the case, Mr. Potter?”

 

Harry shook his head rapidly.  Then he paused, thought about it, and shrugged.  “Maybe?” he tried.  “I don’t…  they could have been killed.”

 

“So could you, any number of times while you were a student here.”  When Harry opened his mouth to object, to point out that his life had of course been more dangerous than a normal student’s, McGonagall held up her hand.  “And no, Mr. Potter, I’m not talking about Voldemort.  I’m talking about your everyday adventures that had nothing to do with that man.  Like flying after Neville’s Remembrall in your first year.  Or flying that awful car here in your second.”

 

Harry hesitated, then said, “But that second one did have to do with Voldemort.”

 

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, and Harry immediately regretted every foolish decision he’d ever made.  “Do you still want to try teaching here, Mr. Potter?” Headmistress McGonagall asked.  “I would understand if you didn’t; this was a nerve racking thing to have happen within your first week.”

 

“You don’t think that I did anything wrong?” Harry asked, and winced when his voice came out a bit smaller than he would have liked.  What was it about Hogwarts that made him feel like a child again?

 

“I think that you responded to a ridiculous accident with the best of your capability, and that you are in no way to blame for the foolishness of this particular pair of students.  I would, however, encourage you not to allow the students to engage in mock duels until you’re more certain that you have control over the classroom.”

 

The brief bit of criticism, oddly enough, made Harry feel better.  “I understand,” he said with a small, relieved sigh.  “I think I’d like to keep going as a teacher, if you really think I can handle it.”

 

Headmistress McGonagall’s smile was thin, but was definitely present.  “Of course I think you can handle it,” she said.  “After all, aren’t you the one who pointed out that you were essentially doing this in your fifth year?”

 

Harry let out a small bark of laughter.  “Thanks, Headmistress,” he said with a slight grin.

 

Immediately, her eyes narrowed although her smile remained.  “Harry, I have asked you to call me Minerva,” she said, her voice deceptively mild.

 

Harry swallowed.  “Minerva,” he said quickly.  “Thank you, Minerva.”  

 

She nodded at him, pleased, and then stood.  “You’re most welcome, Mr. Potter.  Your first years and fourth years are raving about you, by the way, and your third years will be as well once they get over the fact that you had to save the lives of two of their yearmates.  You really are doing an excellent job.”

 

She left, and Harry relaxed a bit.  Right.  He was doing a good job, aside from the fact that two third years had ended up in the hospital on his watch.  But still, it wasn’t his fault.  Minerva would have told him if it had been.  She wouldn’t let him just blindly go about doing a bad job and hurting students, which meant that he had to be doing something right.

 

Harry took a deep breath and shoved away from his desk.  He was doing a good job.  A good enough job, anyway.  And he would never keep that in mind as long as he stayed locked away in this musty office.  What he needed was a good, long walk to clear his head.  That sounded like a good idea.  A very good idea.

 

Harry locked the door behind him and headed out into the bright sunlight.  A walk was just the thing.

 

He felt like he’d barely started walking when someone fell into step beside him.  He glanced to his left to find Neville keeping pace with him, walking quietly by his side.  “Hey,” Harry said quietly.

 

“Want company?” Neville asked, as soon as he’d been acknowledged.  “I understand if you don’t, but I’ve found walking alone tends to lead to brooding, and you don’t need to be doing any more of that than you already do.”

 

“I don’t brood!” Harry protested with a small laugh.

 

“Don’t you?” Neville asked.  He deliberately stepped into Harry’s space, nudging him as they walked.  “So you wouldn’t tell me that you’ve been holed up in either your rooms, your classroom, or your office since you started teaching?”

 

“It’s the first week!” Harry protested.  “I’m adjusting!  And I show up for mealtimes!”

 

“And you don’t really talk to anyone, not even me.  It’s enough to make me wonder if I’ve upset you or something.”  Neville didn’t sound upset, though.  If Harry had to put a name to the tone of Neville’s voice, he thought it might be concerned.  Yes, that was it.  It was just that Harry really wasn’t used to concern being sent in his general direction, not anymore.

 

Harry shook his head and stopped walking.  “It’s not that,” he said quickly.  “I just… I really am adjusting,” he said, his voice small.

 

“And?” Neville asked.  He stopped walking as well, and turned so that he was facing Harry fully. They were pretty far out from the castle, now, far enough that none of the students were anywhere nearby.  At least, not that Harry could see.

 

He sighed.  “And I’m adjusting to the fact that Ginny and I aren’t a thing anymore,” he finally said.  “And I’ve probably lost the Weasleys, since none of them really get what’s wrong.  Molly’s pretty upset with me, and told me last time I saw her that it would be better if I didn’t come around for a while.  She didn’t really say how long that while would be.”  Harry closed his eyes against the pain of saying those words out loud.

 

He knew, he  _ knew _ that divorcing Ginny was the right thing for both of them.  He was happier with the decision, like a massive weight had been lifted off of him.  And Ginny was happier too, even if her mother was angry about it.  But nobody else seemed to approve of their decision, and Harry hadn’t been prepared for the pain he would feel when Ginny’s family rejected him like that.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Neville said quietly.  He reached out, and Harry was startled to feel Neville’s hands on his shoulders.  “Are you okay?” he asked.  Then Neville laughed a little.  “Stupid question, I know.”

 

“It’s not… I’ll be fine,” Harry said uncertainly.  He wanted to step into Neville’s arms, but he didn’t dare.  “I just… I just need to get used to being alone again.”

 

That was what hurt the most.  Going from the family he’d always wanted to… this.  Being alone, probably forever, since he had no idea what was the matter with him.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Neville breathed.  He stepped forward, then, and Harry found himself wrapped in his arms.  “You don’t have to be alone, you know.  You’ve still got me as a friend.”

 

Harry held himself stiffly, but when Neville didn’t let him go, slowly let himself relax into the embrace.  “Thanks,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.  Neville felt warm, comforting, and he soaked in the warmth of his touch for several long minutes.  Then he began to slowly pull back, and Neville let him go.  “Thank you,” he said again, sincerely.  “I really appreciate it, Neville.”

 

Neville just smiled at him.  “It’s really not a problem,” he said.  He started walking again, and Harry followed him.  “We’re friends, after all.  You can talk to me about anything you need to, you know that, right?”

 

Harry hadn’t known that, actually, but he supposed he should have.  “I do,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.  “Thank you.”  He felt like a broken record, repeating the same phrase over and over again, but he genuinely had no idea what else he should be saying.

 

“No worries,” Neville said.

 

The rest of their walk passed in near silence, and when Harry returned to his rooms later that afternoon, he found that he felt much better about his future, both at Hogwarts and personally.  If nothing else, he still had one very good friend that he could confide in.  It didn’t make the divorce worth it, not given all that he’d lost with it, but it was a help.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry gradually improved as a teacher, although some of his students would tell him that he didn’t need to improve.  Harry had the feeling that those same students would likely have told Lockhart the same thing, and so didn’t take their words to heart.  Instead, he listened when Minerva gave him a proper evaluation and took advice from all of the other professors during staff meetings, and as Halloween approached, Harry realized that he was starting to feel like he had the hang of it all.

 

Of course, then it actually was Halloween, and Harry had never had the best of luck with that particular holiday.  Something always went wrong, even when he was working as an Auror.  He begged off of attending the Halloween feast, because of the concern that something would go wrong, and Minerva didn’t complain.  She just smiled at him and told him to try not to dwell on the things he’d lost.  Which he hadn’t been planning on doing, but now that she mentioned it…

 

It was hard not to lose himself in thoughts of his marriage, of his children, of his parents.  Of Remus and Sirius and Tonks and Fred and everyone else who had died during the fighting.  Harry breathed out shakily.  It was okay to be sad, he told himself.  It was okay to miss people.  It wasn’t okay for him to lose his mind and get drunk or whatever.  This was a school, after all.

 

Still, the bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the shelf above his fireplace was very, very tempting.  Harry closed his eyes to block it from view.  Oblivion would be nice, but he wasn’t going to turn into the kind of person who hid from holidays to get drunk all by himself.  Not over this.

 

Suddenly, the inner painting of a landscape filled with the face of the portrait that guarded his room.  “Longbottom is outside for you,” the unidentified man said gruffly.  Harry had always meant to ask him his name, but he hadn’t, and now that he was two months into knowing him, it seemed odd to ask.

 

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly.  “You can let him in.”

 

The door swung open, and Neville came inside.  He was wearing a cloak, like he’d just been outside, and he was grinning at Harry.  “You spending the night locked away in here?” Neville asked.  He came to settle next to Harry by the fireplace.

 

“Yeah.”  Harry nodded at the bottle of firewhiskey.  “I was just thinking about opening that up.  I don’t think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had, because getting drunk alone seems like… like a whole different level of being alone.”

 

Neville sighed.  “I hear that,” he said.  “It’s almost like resigning yourself to spending the rest of your days alone, the first time you do it.”

 

Harry let out a small, bitter laugh.  “Well, if that’s all that it feels like, I might as well go ahead and do it,” he said.  He stood up and reached for the bottle, but froze when Neville’s hand landed on his own.  “What?” Harry asked, defensive.

 

“What do you mean?” Neville’s voice was quiet and warm with genuine concern.

 

“I mean that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I might as well go ahead and get drunk on my own.  I’ve already come to the realization you mentioned, so there’s no reason for me to not drink.”  Harry shrugged, and grabbed the bottle from the shelf.  He didn’t open it, though, just turned it around and around in his hands.

 

“Harry,” Neville started, then stopped.  “You’re young, you know.  You’ve got plenty of time to find someone new to start a relationship with.”  Neville patted him on the shoulder, the gesture a little bit awkward.

 

Harry felt something mean and cold rise up within him, and for once he didn’t try to hold it back.  “You mean like you did, with Hannah?” he asked.  “Because you two divorced three years ago and I haven’t seen you moving on with anyone.”

 

Neville’s flinch was visible, and his expression darkened.  He drew his hand away from Harry’s shoulder.  “Things with Hannah and I were complicated in ways you couldn’t understand,” he said quietly.  “And I think I should go.  You’re… not in good spirits, I can see that.”

 

Part of Harry wanted to stop Neville when the other professor turned and headed for the door.  The rest of Harry watched him go quietly, hurting, and knowing that he’d hurt Neville just as much.  And revelling a bit in that hurt, because he didn’t want to hurt alone.  He hated himself a little bit for that.

 

He opened the firewhiskey, and took a swig straight from the bottle.  It burned all the way going down, and Harry didn’t regret his decision until the next morning, when he woke up with a throbbing headache and the idea that Neville probably wasn’t really his friend anymore.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

If there was one thing that Harry hated about his new life, it was the aching loneliness of it.  Yes, there were students around him all the time, but what did he have in common with an eleven year old who still thought that the world was going to be magical place?  And sure, there were teachers, but most of the professors had been teaching when he’d been in school, and probably still thought of him as the child he oftentimes felt like.

 

Of the two that hadn’t been there forever, one was an insufferable git and the new Potions professor, and the other was Neville.  And Harry had already ruined that one.

 

Most of the time the loneliness didn’t bother him.  It was… just something for him to accept.  But today, on the day of Lily’s birthday, it was the worst thing in the world.  Because she didn’t want him at the celebrations, because she wanted the rest of her family to be there.  And the Weasleys… well, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms with Harry, even though the divorce had been as amicable as a divorce could be.

 

Harry sighed and stared out over the Great Lake.  He’d done it during his school years, particularly in his fourth year when he’d been trying to figure out how he was going to swim in the damned thing, and all it was really doing right now was reminding him that he didn’t have Ron and Hermione anymore, because Ginny had gotten them in the divorce too, it felt like.  He didn’t have anyone anymore.  And it was all his fault, too.

 

What was wrong with him, anyway?  Why didn’t he… why couldn’t he…  He closed his eyes and shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hand.

 

It didn’t matter why he never wanted to engage in… intimacy, with Ginny.  It was perfectly fair for her to want to have sex with her husband, and the fact that he never wanted it…  And the worst part was, there was nothing wrong with him!  He’d gone to the Healers, been treated for a number of things, but nothing had any effect.  When Ginny had suggested a Mind Healer…

 

That’s when Harry had known that things were over.  He’d tried the Mind Healer, he’d gone through the motions, but nothing had worked.  He just… he just didn’t want… that.  And he’d been unable to pretend anymore, unable to force himself to do it anyway so that Ginny would be happy.  They’d had their children, and he’d wanted that to be the end of it.  Had needed it to end, and Ginny had… quite reasonably, Ginny had been very angry with him.

 

Harry drew his knees up to his chest.  Maybe if it had been something else, anything else that had ended his marriage to Ginny, maybe then he would have been able to go out and find someone else.  But how was he supposed to find someone else when he was so fundamentally broken?

 

A warm cloak dropped over his shoulders, startling him.  Harry jerked in surprise, then glanced up.  Neville was standing next to him, a frown on his face.  “It’s the middle of November, Harry,” Neville said quietly.  “You can’t be out here without some kind of cloak.  You’ll freeze.”

 

Harry drew the cloak around himself.  “I didn’t even realize how cold I was getting,” he confessed quietly.  “I… Neville…”  He knew that he needed to apologize.  That he should have done it a week ago, hell, that he never should have said what he’d said in the first place.  He just… he just didn’t know how.

 

Neville just shook his head.  “It’s okay, you know,” he said.  He sat next to Harry on the cold, hard ground, close enough that their arms were touching.  “It’s okay to be angry, and it’s okay to be hurting.  I’m not thrilled with the way you chose to express your hurt and your anger, mind you, but I do understand it.”

 

Harry looked away.  He didn’t deserve Neville’s forgiveness, not without at least saying it once.  “I am sorry for what I said,” he said quietly, trying to make it clear how very genuine he was by pouring it into his voice.

 

“I know you are.”  Neville patted him on the shoulder, and this time the touch didn’t feel as awkward.  “I forgive you.”

 

Harry fought the sudden urge to lean into Neville, and instead cleared his throat.  “So what brings you out here on this bitterly cold November day?” he asked.

 

“My very good friend seemed like he was determined to freeze himself to death,” Neville answered, his voice taking on a light, teasing tone.  “I, being the fantastic Gryffindor that I am, decided that I couldn’t leave him to suffer all on his own.  So I decided to bring out my spare cloak and see what I could do for him.”

 

Harry’s lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.  “Thanks, Neville,” he said quietly, genuinely.  “I really do appreciate it.”  The cloak was warm, and smelled like Neville, and for some strange reason Harry found that he was comforted by that smell.

 

“You know that I’m always available if you want to talk, right?”  Neville’s hand was still on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry could feel the heat of it through the cloak and through his thin robes.

 

Harry didn’t say anything, but did nod.  He didn’t know that he believed Neville, and knew that even if he did that Neville probably wouldn’t be able to help him anyway, but he appreciated the words, and the intent behind them.

 

The afternoon passed in lazy silence, and Neville stayed with Harry for the rest of it.  They stared out at the lake together for what felt like forever, Neville’s arm finally dropping from Harry’s shoulder but still pressed against his arm, the warmth between them growing.  Harry cherished that moment when it ended, shattered by a Quaffle landing in between them, followed by the Slytherin Chasers swooping down around them and one of them accidentally crashing into the lake.

 

Harry grabbed the Quaffle and stood up, tossing it in one hand.  He extended the other hand to Neville and hauled his friend to his feet when his offer was accepted.  “No rest for the wicked, huh?” he asked, even as he started towards the lake to make sure that the student in question was okay.

 

“Never,” Neville agreed with a grin as he followed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Even though Harry knew it was coming, he still wasn’t ready for it when Christmas break began, and not just because he’d fallen so far behind on his grading that he didn’t know if he’d finish by the end of the school year.  It was just so hard to focus on paperwork when he was so tired all the time…

 

And Christmas, he knew, wasn’t going to make it any easier to focus.  He was going to be staying at the school, even though Minerva had offered to let him go to whatever festivities his children were having.  It had hurt, but he’d turned her down.  Lily had made her opinion perfectly clear when she’d told him not to come to her nineteenth birthday, and he didn’t think that James or Albus would have a different opinion from their sister.

 

Neville was staying as well, and so were most of the other professors.  The new Potions professor chose not to, but Harry didn’t care about him as much.  He was a smarmy little shit, anyway.

 

On the first day with no classes, with nothing much to do besides the grading he couldn’t focus on, Harry found himself sitting in his room and thinking.  What if he’d just tried harder?  Why hadn’t he tried harder, anyway?  It wasn’t that… he’d been able to get off on it, after all.  Maybe he should have just kept… going through the motions.  If he’d kept trying…

 

Harry shivered and drew his knees up to his chest, cold in spite of the warmth from the fireplace.  He couldn’t have.  Realistically, he knew that he couldn’t have kept doing… that.  He didn’t like it.  It made him feel squirmy inside, disgusting, sick.  He’d thrown up several times after engaging in intimacies with Ginny, and she’d never known about it.  She’d found out, though, the very last time he’d tried.  The night before she’d told him that she thought they should divorce, and ripped his life away from him.

 

No.  That wasn’t fair.  Ginny was… was just looking out for him, and for herself.  She’d been the one with the courage to see that it wasn’t working out.

 

Harry sighed and pushed himself further back into the couch.  Some Gryffindor he was.  He hadn’t even had the courage to end things with his wife when he’d known that he couldn’t keep her happy anymore.  His lip curled up in disgust with himself.

 

He heard his portrait talking to him and snapped out of his spiral of depression.  “What?” he bit out.

 

“Neville is here,” the portrait said, a bit stiffly.  He was a proper thing, Harry had noticed, and didn’t respond well when Harry was in one of his worse moods.

 

“You should tell him to go away, that I’m not good company.”  Harry knew that he wasn’t.  He knew that if he tried to talk to Neville, there was a very good chance that he’d say something cruel again.  Something that maybe Neville wouldn’t be able to forgive.  And Neville was…. the only good thing about all of this, the only friendship he had left, now that Ron and Hermione weren’t even speaking to him because of the divorce.

 

There was a moment of silence, and Harry thought that Neville had probably gone away like Harry had suggested.  He would remember how bad Harry’s temper had been, after all, and probably wouldn’t want to risk Harry saying something terrible.

 

Then the knight reappeared.  “Neville suggests that perhaps that means you might need company more than you realize, and seems perfectly content to settle himself on the floor outside of your quarters if you’re unwilling to have company right at this very moment.”

 

Harry sighed.  Or he hadn’t gone away, apparently.  “Let him in,” he said tiredly.  He wasn’t dressed, was still in his pajamas, and he hadn’t showered or bathed so his hair was as greasy as Snape’s had been once upon a time.  He really wasn’t fit for company, but Neville probably wouldn’t leave until he saw that for himself.

 

Neville entered his living room, a plate of food in hand.  “You missed breakfast and lunch,” Neville said quietly.  “Minerva suggested that perhaps you might prefer to be left alone, but I wasn’t about to let you go hungry when there was so much food available.”

 

Harry shook his head.  “I’m not hungry.”  He rarely was in times of stress, and thanks to his time with a Mind Healer, he now knew that he could at least partially blame that on the Dursleys.  “But thank you,” he added after a moment of silence.

 

Neville just shrugged.  “It won’t spoil for waiting,” he said, and set it on the coffee table before joining Harry on the couch.  “You should at least try to eat something, even if it’s just a corner of toast.”

 

“Thanks, Healer Longbottom,” Harry said dryly.  He closed his eyes and shifted so that he was more curled up, his head resting on the arm of the couch, his feet near Neville.

 

Neville tugged his feet into his lap, much to Harry’s surprise.  Part of him wanted to pull back, but the rest of him relished the contact.  People didn’t… touch him, not anymore.  Before he could make up his mind, Neville began to speak.  “You know, I could have been a Healer,” he said quietly.  “I thought about it, but I didn’t have the Potions scores. Gran was willing to pay for me to have some private tuition, because she thought it was just Snape, and she was probably right.  But I thought that this would be a good job for me instead.  She wasn’t thrilled with the decision, since it was far less prestigious, but she accepts it now.”

 

“Why’d you pick it?” Harry asked, curious in spite of himself.

 

“Hannah was here,” Neville said quietly.  He started to rub at Harry’s captured feet, the gesture seeming more absent-minded than anything.  “I wanted to be here with her, and she wanted me nearby, too.”

 

“Sorry.”  Harry didn’t know what else to say.  It seemed like no matter what he said, he was going to wind up hurting Neville.  This was a bad idea.  He tried to pull his feet away, to sit up.

 

Neville didn’t let him go.  “It’s okay,” he said quietly, and it sounded like he genuinely believed what he was saying.  “She and I… we were just too different.  She wanted things that I couldn’t give her, and I…”  Neville sighed, and shook his head.  “I wasn’t willing to keep trying.”

 

“What did she want?”  Harry was confused.  “She married you when you were an Herbology professor, so she couldn’t have wanted any big adventure or anything.”

 

“Sex, Harry,” Neville whispered, and when Harry looked at him, his cheeks had gone a dull shade of red.  “She wanted sex, and I… didn’t.  And more than that, I wasn’t willing to keep trying.  I did try it for her, once, and I… it made me throw up.”  This last was said in the softest whisper possible, with barely any force behind it.  Harry had to strain to hear it.

 

He sat up, jerking his feet from Neville’s grasp, his eyes wide.  “You too?” he gasped out, startled into the words.

 

Neville jerked in surprise and twisted so that he was facing him.  “What?”  His eyes had gone wide as well.

 

“That’s why Ginny and I wound up divorcing,” Harry confessed, just as quietly as Neville had made his confession.  “Because… because I managed to father three children, but I couldn’t keep… you know, having sex, after that, even after I went to the Mind Healers.”  His cheeks were flushed as well, with shame from speaking the words out loud.  It was the first time he’d done so since he’d spoken with the Mind Healers.

 

“Oh.”  Neville let out a small, shaky sigh.  “It’s… I mean, I’m sorry.  But… it’s kind of nice to know I’m not alone in that.”

 

Harry tried out a smile, and managed a very shaky one.  “Yeah,” he muttered.  “Yeah, it is.”  There was a small sense of relief, a small sense of joy to know that if he was broken, at least he wasn’t the only one who was broken in that way.

 

“It’s funny,” Harry said, once he’d settled back down on the couch, his feet propped up in Neville’s lap once more.  “Ginny decided that we needed to divorce after she caught me throwing up after my last visit with the Mind Healers.  She said that she couldn’t watch me suffer anymore.  I don’t think she realized how her family… how our children would take it.”  Harry’s brow furrowed and his eyes blurred and he blinked back the tears that wanted to fall.

 

“I guess I’m glad that Hannah and I didn’t get around to trying for kids,” Neville said.  He was stroking Harry’s feet again, rubbing at them, the motions slow and soothing.  “And I know that it’s hard, but your divorce is so recent.  Maybe… maybe the kids will come around?”

 

Harry let his eyes fall closed.  “I hope so,” he said.  He didn’t think it would happen, but he really did hope so.  It wasn’t very likely, he didn’t think, though.

 

The two fell into a comfortable silence as Neville continued to rub at Harry’s feet, every now and again running his hands over Harry’s legs.  Harry supposed that it should be strange, two men sitting together on the couch like that, but really… really it was nice.  It was nice to know that he could sit with Neville like this, be touched like this without having to worry about it turning into something sexual.

 

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed contact like this, especially since Ginny hadn’t touched him like that in… a very long time, not since he’d started seeing the Mind Healers, honestly, which had begun just before Lily’s fifth year at Hogwarts.  Three years…

 

Harry didn’t even realize when he drifted off to sleep, Neville’s hands still rubbing gently over his legs.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Christmas morning dawned bright, to Harry’s dismay.  He would have preferred it to be dark and cold and gloomy, as that was more suited to his current mood.  He thought about getting up, about opening his curtains all the way and heading down to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast, and then he discarded the idea.

 

With the mood he was in, he’d just bring everyone around him down, Neville included.  It would be better he just didn’t even try.  He spelled his curtains closed with a muttered spell and a gesture of his wand, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the pillow.

 

He supposed he must have fallen back to sleep because he woke again to a knock on his door, his bedroom door.  Nobody should be in his rooms…  Harry sat up and raked a hand through his hair and yawned.  He groped around for his glasses, and when he plopped them on he noticed how very dark it was in the room.  Apparently, he’d successfully slept away Christmas day.

 

“Harry?”  Harry’s heart dropped, because that voice… that wasn’t Neville, and it wasn’t Minerva, and it wasn’t anyone who had any business being at Hogwarts.  “Harry James Potter, I know that you’re in there because your portrait said that you were!  Now get out here right now, or I will come drag you out of that bedroom!”

 

Harry swallowed.  Hermione.  What was she doing here?  “Just a second,” he called back, hoarsely.  He slid out of bed and looked around the room.  He spotted a robe lying haphazardly over a chair and snagged it, throwing it on and buttoning it closed.  He wanted to go brush his teeth and his hair, but the pounding on his door told him that Hermione wasn’t going to give him time to do either of the above.

 

“Harry James Potter, if you’ve gone back to sleep, I-”  She cut off, her eyes widening, when Harry flung open the door.  

 

As her eyes raked over Harry, Harry tried out an awkward smile.  “Hey, Hermione,” he said.

 

His smile must not have looked very genuine at all.  “Harry,” she breathed, and reached out to touch him.  Harry dodged away.  “What… you…”  She swallowed.  “Ginny said that you both decided that divorce was the best option,” she said finally.

 

Many, many words sprang to Harry’s lips.  He wanted to ask her why she’d never asked him what had happened, why she’d only cared about Ginny’s side of things.  Why she’d sided with Ginny completely and had cut him out as thoroughly as Ron had.  Why she’d blamed him, if Ginny had said that it was a mutual decision.  Harry swallowed all of the words.  “We did,” was all he said, his voice a little choked from the effort of holding everything back.

 

“Then why do you look like hell?” she asked bluntly.  “And where were you today?  I thought… I mean, I was surprised when I didn’t see you at Lily’s birthday, but for you to miss Christmas?  Harry, what’s the matter with you?”

 

The words hurt more than Harry could say.  “I wasn’t invited,” he said quietly, carefully, and blinked to clear the blur from his eyes.  It was just because he was tired; it certainly wasn’t because he was about to cry.

 

Hermione blinked back at him.  “What do you mean you weren’t invited?” she asked, with great incredulity in her voice.

 

Harry swallowed again.  “I mean that I wasn’t invited.  To Lily’s birthday or to Christmas.  I sent gifts.”  He brushed past Hermione and into his sitting room.  “Do you want tea or anything?” he asked, both as a way to change the subject and because it was only the polite thing to do when an acquaintance was visiting.  And how painful was it that Hermione was now just an acquaintance?

 

“I don’t want… what do you mean that you weren’t invited to Lily’s birthday?  You’re her father, she doesn’t have to send you an invitation!”  Hermione followed him into the sitting room and grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him around.

 

Harry flinched from her touch.  “She doesn’t have to invite me, no,” he agreed quietly.  He swallowed again, the lump in his throat stubbornly not going anywhere.  “But it would have been nice if she hadn’t sent me a letter telling me not to come at all.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened.  “I’m sure…”  She stopped, and appeared to gather her thoughts.  “I’m sure that she didn’t mean it,” she tried, a bit weakly.

 

Harry just looked at her, and felt more tired than he’d felt before, if that was even possible.  “Right.”  He summoned a house elf and called for some tea, because Neville would be frustrated if he dropped by and found that Harry hadn’t eaten, not because he wanted anything to drink or because he was particularly hungry.  He just didn’t want to frustrate Neville.  Neville already worried about him so much...

 

Hermione had used his brief conversation with the house elf to rally herself, it seemed.  “And what about Christmas today?  We missed you at Molly and Arthur’s, you know.”

 

Harry didn’t look at her and instead settled on his couch.  “Molly told me not to come by for a while,” he said.  “And she didn’t tell me when that while would be over.  I just assumed that it wasn’t.”

 

His tea arrived, and he went through the methodical motions of pouring himself a cup, of preparing it the way he liked it best, and then taking a small sip.  His stomach wasn’t thrilled with his decision, but didn’t protest too badly.

 

“You can’t just assume these things, Harry!” Hermione snapped.  “We really missed you today!”

 

“Did you?” he asked, and looked up at her from his tea. 

 

Whatever she saw in his eyes made her step back a bit, her own eyes widening.  “I… of course we did!”  She seemed offended at the very idea that they wouldn’t have missed him.

 

Harry didn’t see how she could have; she hadn’t seen him since he’d started at Hogwarts, nor had she made any efforts to see him.  It wasn’t like it was such a terrible journey for her to make, to come from the Ministry to here.  Not when Floo was a thing, and Apparition was available from the Ministry to Hogsmeade.  She could walk from there, easily.  She hadn’t even written to him, not since he’d started here.

 

He didn’t want to say any of that, because he didn’t really have the energy to argue with her.  Instead, he just dipped his head and returned his attention to his tea.  It was sweet, and slightly milky, just the way he liked it, and easier to focus on than Hermione.  The elf had brought him some small sandwiches and some biscuits, but he didn’t touch them.  He really wasn’t hungry at all.

 

“Harry,” she started, then stopped when he looked at her once more.  Then she appeared to brace herself, drawing her courage around herself, and she continued.  “Harry, I’m worried about you.  You haven’t tried to contact us at all, and you look… you look unwell.”

 

There was the sound of a throat clearing.  “Professor Longbottom is outside,” the portrait said when Harry glanced at him, grateful for the interruption.

 

“Please let him in,” Harry said, and hoped that he didn’t sound as pathetically desperate as he knew he did.  “Hey, Neville,” he said, as soon as Neville entered the room.

 

Neville frowned at him, and ignored Hermione for the moment.  “You haven’t eaten anything today,” he said with a frown.

 

Harry shrugged.  “I haven’t been hungry,” he said honestly.  “And I just woke up,” he added, because Neville would doubtlessly make his way around to that truth eventually.

 

Neville sighed at him, but didn’t seem horribly frustrated.  “You need to eat, Harry,” he said gently.  “Hermione, good to see you.”

 

“Neville,” Hermione said in greeting, but she put an odd intonation on the word.  “How have you been?”

 

“Good.”  Neville glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then returned his attention to Harry.  “And what did you mean that you just woke up?  Harry, it’s eight o’clock at night!”

 

Harry just shrugged and took another sip of his tea.  “I meant that I just woke up,” he repeated.

 

“I woke him up when I got here,” Hermione said, and Harry could hear the irritation in her voice.  “We were disappointed when he didn’t show up at all today, and I wanted to talk to him about it.”

 

“Did you make sure that he was invited?” Neville asked evenly.  As Harry watched, startled, Neville shifted himself so that he stood in between Hermione and himself, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.  It almost looked like… like Neville was defending him?  From what, Hermione?

 

“I shouldn’t need to make sure that he was invited, Neville!” Hermione took one step forward, but stopped when Neville didn’t move out of her way.  “He’s always… the Weasleys are his family, Neville, and yes, things might not have worked out between him and Ginny, but the divorce was-”

 

“Where’s Ron, Hermione?” Neville asked gently.  He still didn’t move.

 

“What?”  Hermione stumbled over the word, like she hadn’t expected the question.  Maybe she hadn’t.

 

“Where’s Ron?  Why isn’t he here with you?”  Neville tilted his head to one side, inviting an answer.  When Hermione said nothing, he continued.  “You said that the Weasleys are still Harry’s family, but even Ron wouldn’t come with you tonight.  It’s because the divorce changed something, and maybe with time whatever wounds it caused will heal, but for now, Harry can’t just show up to the Weasleys.  And I think you know that.”

 

Hermione swallowed.  “I don’t even know what you’re doing here,” she said, a bit snidely.

 

Neville’s lips twitched, and Harry realized suddenly that he was a bit amused by Hermione right then.  “Well, you wouldn’t.  You haven’t been around since Harry started teaching here.”

 

Hermione let out a small, affronted gasp.  “Harry, are you really going to let him talk to me like that?” she demanded.

 

Harry shrugged.  Neville had only said the things that he’d wanted to say but hadn’t felt able to.  He certainly wasn’t going to stop him from saying those things, no matter how much it frustrated Hermione.  He set his teacup down and curled in on himself.

 

“I think perhaps you should go,” Neville said.  “You’re just upsetting him, now.”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed.  “Well, he upset me when he didn’t even show up for Christmas!” she snapped.

 

Neville just stared at her.  “You’re better than that, Hermione,” he said quietly.  “Come back when you’ve had time to think about who’s really being wronged here.”

 

Hermione jerked like she’d been slapped, her eyes going wide.  Then they narrowed once more, but this time the expression was more calculating.  “Perhaps I’ll do that,” she said, and swept from the room.

 

Neville settled next to Harry with a small sigh.  “You don’t have to let her talk to you like that, you know,” he pointed out.  He wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder and drew him close, ignoring the way that Harry was curled in on himself.  When Harry lost his balance and fell against him, he didn’t seem to mind.

 

Harry relaxed into Neville’s warmth.  “I don’t know how else to let her talk to me,” he confessed.  “She… she was upset, and I…  I didn’t want to make it worse.”

 

“You’re allowed to make it worse when she’s being unfair.”  Neville ran a hand through Harry’s hair, then, and grimaced.  “You need a shower, you know.  The students are going to start calling you the new Snape.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “I’ll shower before I leave my rooms next,” he said.

 

“So, you’ll shower before breakfast tomorrow?  I let you get away with one day of wallowing in your rooms, but one is all you’re getting.”  Neville nudged him with his shoulder, jostling Harry ever so slightly.  It wasn’t to make him move, Harry could tell that much, it was just a way of getting his attention.

 

“Okay,” Harry agreed quietly.  He closed his eyes and leaned even further against Neville, practically melting into him.  The contact was so very nice, something he hadn’t had in such a long time.  It was strange, how much he seemed to crave it, and how much worse it had gotten since he’d realized that Neville was okay letting Harry touch him like this.  It should have been strange, but it wasn’t.

 

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Neville said quietly.

 

Harry didn’t smile, but he did respond with a quiet, “Happy Christmas.”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry wasn’t really all that surprised when, three days before classes were supposed to start, he was called into the Headmistress’ office.  She frowned at him as he entered, and as he settled in the chair across from her.  Her eyes, while sharp and assessing, were softened by the warmth of her concern.

 

“How are you doing, Harry?” she asked quietly, carefully.

 

Harry looked down at his hands.  “I think I’m doing a good job,” he said quickly.  “Better than I was doing at the start of the year, anyway.”  He swallowed.  He didn’t know what she thought, but he had the feeling that her thoughts probably didn’t agree with his own.  Especially since… “Except for the grading.  I’m pretty far behind on that.”

 

“You’ve been doing an excellent job aside from the grading,” she said quietly, and Harry sagged with relief.  “But I do wonder if, personally, the stress of the position might be getting to you.”

 

Harry flinched.  She… probably wasn’t wrong.  He wasn’t eating, even though Neville kept trying to convince him to do so.  He wasn’t sleeping right, mostly because he was still so… sad.  Depressed, maybe, was the word he was looking for.  He missed his family, his children, his wife.  Neville was helpful, but…  but Neville didn’t sleep by his side at night.

 

“Maybe,” he said quietly.  He wanted to deny it.  Wanted to shout that he’d been the Head Auror, for Merlin’s sake, and wasn’t that supposed to be more stressful than teaching a bunch of children?  It was certainly a more high-stakes position, and he’d handled it just fine!

 

“I was thinking,” Minerva began.

 

Harry winced.  Here it came.  She was going to fire him, and then what was he going to do? Just sit around all day and regret the fact that he hadn’t been man enough for his wife?  Because if he lost this… if he couldn’t even do this job, it wasn’t like he could go back to being Head Auror, not when he was this much of a mess.

 

“Maybe teaching Defense isn’t the right subject for you.  It’s what you’ve been doing since the end of the war, after all.”  Then she laughed, the sound just a bit bitter.  “Since before that, really.  You always were one of our best Defense teachers, even in your fifth year.”

 

Harry glanced up at her.  She was watching him, genuine fondness in her eyes, and Harry finally dared to smile back at her.  “But I’ve been doing a good job,” he said.  “You’re not… you’re not firing me, right?”  Because, Merlin, as pathetic as it was, he didn’t think he could handle being fired at this point.

 

“Of course not!” Minerva scowled at him.  “Silly child, you’re doing such an excellent job as a teacher, and I do think that the change of pace would be helpful if it weren’t such a stressful position.  But, I was thinking, our current flying instructor has been expressing a desire to retire.  Is there any chance that you’d be interested-”

 

“Please?” Harry interrupted, his eyes going wide.  And then he swallowed.  “Sorry.  I don’t actually know what you were going to ask.”

 

“Oh, I think you have a good idea,” she said, her eyes twinkling the way that Albus’ once had.  “I was going to suggest that, when classes resume, you take on the role of flying instructor rather than Defense professor.”

 

Harry wanted that, more than anything else.  An excuse to be up on his broom, helping the children learn how to fly?  That sounded… that sounded pretty great, actually.  But…  “But don’t you need a Defense teacher?”  He didn’t want to leave her without someone to teach the class.  It couldn’t be easy to fill a position like that on such short notice…

 

Her face softened.  “We do, but there’s a chance that I anticipated your saying yes to this switch and perhaps I may have already contacted someone who might be your replacement,” she said, her lips twitching.

 

Part of Harry was offended that she hadn’t thought he would stick it out, but the rest of him… the rest of him acknowledged that he’d been pretty much imploding since Halloween.  He’d been having trouble managing his classes, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t had any major accidents.  The only reason he hadn’t was because he’d had his students mostly doing bookwork.

 

Harry sighed.  “Then I guess I’ll try out flying instructor,” he said, and tried to make it sound like he was sadder than he was about it.

 

He didn’t fool Minerva, who just rolled her eyes at him.  “Go take those crocodile tears to Neville and see if he’ll give you a hug,” she said teasingly.  

 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he stood up, taking the words as a dismissal.  “He probably would give me a hug, wouldn’t he?” he asked, as he backed away from her desk.

 

She nodded, her eyes still twinkling.  “He does seem to be rather fond of you,” she said agreeably.

 

Harry flushed as he said, “Well, I think I might be rather fond of him, too.”

 

Then he ducked out of her office before she could analyze his statement, or worse, before he could start wondering if he meant it.


	3. Chapter Three

 

The change was announced when the students returned from break, and there was a new face sitting at the head table during the first dinner after break.  The face was… not someone Harry had expected, and definitely wasn’t someone he was sure that he was ready to see.

 

“Did you know?” he asked Neville, and his cheeks heated in a blush when his voice shook.  What if… what if he was as mad as Harry’s children were?  Then what would Harry do?  He wasn’t ready for this.

 

“I didn’t,” Neville responded immediately.  “I would have told you if I’d known.”

 

Teddy was sitting at the table with them, and he hadn’t even looked at Harry once since he’d sat down, not that Harry had seen, and he’d been looking.  It hurt, more than anything in the world, and Harry found himself only poking at his dinner.  Minerva had intended this to help, but it seemed as though it was going to hurt.

 

The one good thing was the way that students reacted to Harry’s being switched from Defense professor.  The immediate outcry against the decision warmed Harry’s heart, though not enough that he managed to eat anything.

 

“Can’t you try to eat?” Neville asked softly.  His voice was gently coaxing rather than demanding, but Harry…

 

Harry knew that if he tried to actually eat anything, that his stomach would be upset, and that he’d probably throw up in front of the students.  His godson was here, and wasn’t even looking at him.  What was he supposed to do with that?

 

He escaped from the Great Hall as soon as he was able to do so, ducking away from Neville as quickly as he could.  He just wanted to get back to his rooms and lay down and… and sleep.  Maybe all of this would look better in the morning, when he woke up.  Maybe…

 

“Harry, wait!”

 

Harry froze.  That was Teddy calling after him.  He didn’t want to stop, but… but he couldn’t run away.  Not forever, not if they were going to be working together.  Maybe it was best to get all of this out of the way now, whatever this was.

 

“Teddy,” he said, and his voice came out smaller than he would have liked.  Why was he like this, now?  What had happened to the strong, confident Gryffindor who didn’t need to worry about whether or not he still had friends?  This was… pathetic, and Harry hated himself a little bit for it.

 

“You look like shit,” his godson said bluntly, his eyes raking over Harry.

 

Harry just shrugged.  He didn’t know what else to say or do in response to the statement.

 

“Victoire and I broke up.”  The statement was delivered so calmly, so casually, but Harry’s heart dropped.

 

“Why?” he asked, his voice aching.

 

“Because she wouldn’t stop speaking badly of you,” Teddy said.  “Because the Weasleys are being assholes about this, and she was being just as bad as any one of them, and I couldn’t handle it.”

 

Harry shook his head rapidly, closing his eyes.  “Don’t…” He swallowed.  “I’m not worth it, Teddy.  You love her!”

 

“Loved,” Teddy corrected gently.  Harry started when he felt a warm hand brush against his forehead.  “You’re my godfather, though, and you’ve always been here for me.  And Ginny said that you and she had mutually decided that this was the best option, and even your kids are being dicks about this whole thing, and I couldn’t just stand by and be… well, a dick.”

 

Harry couldn’t help the soggy laugh that escaped him.  “You should watch your language, Professor Lupin,” he teased, and his voice choked up again at saying those words.  “You know, your father would be proud of you.  For being a professor, especially in his subject.  He really enjoyed his time teaching.”

 

Teddy just gave him a look, one eyebrow raising.  “I do know my father would be proud of me,” he said.  “And you’re trying to change the subject.  We were talking about your troubles with our family, not my dead father.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about my troubles with our family,” Harry said quickly.

 

“Well, I don’t want to talk about my dead father,” Teddy shot back.  His lips twitched into a grin.  “It’s good see you, Harry, even if you do look like shit.”

 

Harry smiled back, a bit shakily, and felt something ease inside of him.  “It’s good to see you too,” he said.  “I’m glad that at least one of my kids doesn’t hate me.”

 

“They don’t hate you,” Teddy said.  And then Harry got to see him blush a little bit, as Teddy always did when Harry claimed him as his own.  “They’re just confused,” Teddy continued resolutely, ignoring the blush on his own cheeks.  “But I think they’ll come around.  James was already saying that he missed you over Christmas and Scorpius seemed genuinely surprised not to see you at the festivities.”

 

Harry blinked.  “Scorpius was over for Christmas?” he asked, a bit weakly.  How come he hadn’t known… because he hadn’t seen his children in months.

 

Teddy’s face fell.  “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.  “Sorry, Harry,” he said, a bit apologetically.  “Scorpius and Albus are together now.”

 

It wasn’t like it was something that Harry hadn’t anticipated, given how close the two of them had become at Hogwarts.  Still…  “Good to know,” he muttered, his heart aching.  He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

 

“Shit.”  Teddy raked a hand through his hair.  “Here I was hoping to cheer you up, and it seems like all I’m doing is making it worse for you, aren’t I?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “No,” he said honestly, rubbing at his chest a little bit to ease the ache in his heart.  “I’m really happy to see you, no matter what news you have for me.”  He smiled, and hoped that the smile seemed genuine.  It was a genuine one, after all.  No matter how much Teddy drove home that Harry didn’t actually know what was going on in his children’s lives right now, he was glad that his godson, at least, didn’t hate him.

 

Even if he did wish that Teddy were still involved with Victoire.  Imagine, breaking up with his girlfriend of over a decade over  _ this _ .  Over  _ him _ , honestly.

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Teddy said with a small smile.  “It would be really awkward if you were unhappy to see me, seeing as how we’re going to be working together now.”

 

Harry brightened.  “Hey, I didn’t congratulate you yet!  I know that I said that Remus would be proud of you, but I want you to know that I’m also quite proud of you.”

 

Teddy ducked his head, his cheeks turning bright red.  “Thanks,” he muttered.  He dug his toe into the ground, the picture of bashfulness.  “Headmistress McGonagall actually approached me about it, it’s not like I had to interview or anything.”

 

“That doesn’t make your accomplishment any less valid,” Harry said, and ruffled Teddy’s currently-green hair.  “You’ve done well.  It’s a hell of an accomplishment, teaching Defense at your young age.”

 

Teddy shifted, like he was uncomfortable with the praise, then rocked back on his heels.  “Well, I should probably get to bed, given that I have so many responsibilities coming up,” he said, and took a step back.

 

Harry let him go, grinning a little.  Teddy would do a good job, he knew that.  It was better that Teddy have the position and do it wholeheartedly than Harry have it and do a bad job of it because his heart wasn’t truly in the work.

 

But flying?  Harry’s heart was always in flying.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He took to his new position as easily as he took to flying, and Harry found that the regular time on his broom lifted his heart in ways he hadn’t begun to anticipate.  When he was in the air, it felt like none of his normal concerns could touch him.  And if he started to think about them, well, he could just outfly them, in maneuvers that tended to truly dazzle his students.

 

“Why didn’t you go professional, Professor?” one of the Ravenclaw second years asked him after he’d just performed a particularly daring Wronski Feint.

 

When Harry had been in school, flying lessons had been reserved for first years only.  Harry was pleased that they’d been expanded to second and third years, because it gave students interested in flying a relatively safe way to try out more difficult maneuvers.  Like a Wronski Feint, if they were so inclined.

 

Harry wasn’t sure his heart could tolerate such attempts, but he’d do his best to teach any of the children who wanted to learn.

 

Harry just shrugged.  “I didn’t think about it at the time, honestly,” he told her.  “Everybody was telling me that I’d make a good Auror, and so that’s what I did.”

 

“But were you happy as an Auror?” a Slytherin boy asked.

 

Harry shook his head.  “I wasn’t unhappy,” he said slowly.  “But no.  I don’t think that I can say that I was actually happy, either.”

 

His students fell silent, and Harry was about to start them on another drill when his charm notified him that it was time for the students to head back to the ground so that they could get to their last class of the day, and of the week, given that it was Friday.  “All right, that’s all we have time for,” he said, to a chorus of groans from his students.

 

Harry couldn’t tell if they were sad to leave him, to stop flying, or because they were headed to Potions.  Either way, the hardest part of the day started.  Corralling the second year Ravenclaws and Slytherins into actually getting down on time so that they weren’t late for their next class was one of the most challenging things he’d ever done, including hunting down Voldemort’s horcruxes.

 

He supposed he couldn’t blame them.  If he had a choice between staying up in the air and going to Potions, he would stay up in the air every single time.  Of course, now he could see Neville waiting for him on the ground, staring up with a small smile on his face.  And Neville was infinitely more appealing than Potions, and slightly more appealing than flying.

 

After getting his students on the ground and headed off to their Potions class, Harry managed to return Neville’s smile.  “Hello,” he greeted politely.

 

Neville just shook his head and rocked back on his heels a little.  “Hello,” the Herbology Professor said, his grin broadening.  “How goes the flying lessons?”

 

Harry ducked his head.  “Pretty good, I think,” he said, even as he started to gather the student’s discarded brooms.  He was done for the day.  Flying Instructor truly was a much less stressful position.  He only had to worry about two to three classes per day, which was so much easier than trying to wrangle all seven years of all four houses.

 

He still wasn’t sleeping well, but there wasn’t really anything to be done about that.  He couldn’t sleep because he didn’t have anyone to sleep with him for the first time in almost twenty years, and there still wasn’t anything he could do about that. Aside, maybe, from asking Neville.  But Harry couldn’t let himself be quite that pathetic, no matter how much of a good idea it felt like.

 

“You look happier,” Neville said.  He started to help Harry gather up the brooms, moving a bit slower than Harry was, but that was okay.  It wasn’t like it was his job to clean up, and it wasn’t like he had the same amount of practice that Harry did with it.  “I think this was a good decision for you, even though I knew you weren’t sure about it when you made it.”

 

Harry smiled at the ground.  He hadn’t been sure, even though he’d accept right away.  But Neville had told him that he thought he was making the right decision, and Harry had, eventually, agreed.  Especially now, two weeks into the new job, when he really was so much less stressed than he had been.

 

“I’m glad that Teddy is here,” Harry offered quietly.  He picked up the last of the brooms and started walking towards the shed where they were stored, Neville following behind without complaint.

 

“You two have been getting along, then?” Neville asked.  He helped Harry put the brooms away, storing each one on its proper shelf.

 

“Yeah,” Harry stepped back as soon as the last broom was away.  “He’s been… nice.  We haven’t had much time together, since he’s teaching Defense and that subject is kind of exhausting, but we’ve had some time together.”

 

“I’m glad.”  Neville patted him on the shoulder, the gesture no longer as awkward and uncomfortable as it had been.  In fact, Harry leaned into the touch, and Neville let his hand rest there.  The contact was… nice.  Very nice, even if Harry couldn’t quite understand why he appreciated it so much.

 

The silence between them was comfortable as they walked out of the shed and headed back up to the castle.  Neville’s last class of the day let out around the same time as Harry’s, and this wasn’t the first time they’d walked like this.  Harry enjoyed it each time they did, though.

 

“You still aren’t sleeping well,” Neville said quietly, carefully, like he was wary of bringing the topic up.

 

Harry couldn’t help the small flinch.  “No,” he agreed.  “It’s lonely, and that’s just something I’m going to have to adjust to.  I haven’t slept alone in almost twenty years.”  Then he laughed, a little sadly.  “Longer, really, if you think about the time I spent in the dorms and in that stupid tent during what would have been our seventh year.”

 

“It’s hard to adjust to,” Neville said.  “I had so much trouble with it myself.  It’s still…  it never gets easy.”  Neville sighed.  “I mean, I manage just fine, but it took several years before I could sleep by myself.  And Hannah and I weren’t together as long as you were with Ginny.  Be patient with yourself.”

 

Harry breathed out.  “I try,” he said.  It was hard.  He’d never been particularly patient, honestly.  And now it seemed harder than ever to be kind to himself, probably because he was still so very frustrated with himself for not being able to provide for Ginny.

 

Harry’s earlier idea returned to him and his cheeks flushed.  What a thought!  What a pathetic thought, if he were being completely honest with himself.  He couldn’t just… just ask Neville to spend the night with him.  Besides, Neville wouldn’t want to do that, Harry knew that.  Like Harry, he wasn’t interested in sex, whatever that meant, and so he probably didn’t really care much about having someone… but he’d just said…  He’d just said that he had trouble adjusting to sleeping by himself.

 

“What’s up?” Neville asked, stilling just before they could enter the castle.  “You look like you have something on your mind.”

 

Harry paused and looked down.  “I just… had a thought,” he muttered.  The ground was easy to look at.  He didn’t want to see Neville’s face when he proposed what was on his mind.

 

“And do you want to share that thought?” Neville asked.  He touched Harry on the shoulder and then squeezed.  “You know that I won’t mind, whatever it was.”

 

“Sleeping,” Harry muttered.  “You said you still have trouble with it sometimes, right?  And that… and that there’s nothing wrong with me even though I’m still having trouble sleeping, right?”

 

“Sometimes.  And of course there’s nothing wrong with you; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Considering your history, difficulty sleeping is totally natural.”  Neville pulled his hand away, and then Harry was startled by fingers under his chin, gently tilting his head up.  “But I think you know that.  I think you had something else on your mind.”

 

Harry swallowed.  “Maybe,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming.  “I just thought… maybe if sleep is something you’re still having trouble with, maybe you might want to try sleeping next to me?”  He still wouldn’t meet Neville’s eyes, and instead found himself staring at Neville’s smooth cheek.  It was the most neutral place he could look at.

 

“Harry,” Neville said, and there was a warmth to his voice that made something in Harry ache.  It was a good, ache, though, not a bad one.  “Look at me, would you?”

 

Harry blinked and forced himself to meet Neville’s eyes.  “Yeah?”  Neville didn’t look disgusted or anything.  If anything, there was something cautiously delighted in his gaze, something almost like happiness.

 

“I’d like that,” Neville said.  He leaned forward and kissed Harry on the forehead, then stepped back.  “What time would you like me to come over?”

 

Harry let out a shaky sigh and dropped his gaze so that he could stare at the ground once more.  “Nine?” he whispered, his voice small and uncertain.  Yes, Neville had said yes, but he still wasn’t sure that it would work.  But he was so tired all the time, even when he was up in the air, and he thought that maybe this might work.  He certainly trusted Neville enough to sleep beside him, since he’d done it on the couch before.

 

“Nine sounds good,” Neville said softly.  “And Harry?”

 

Harry looked up again.  Neville’s eyes were very soft, very gentle, and very warm.  “Yeah?”

 

Neville opened his mouth to say something, then paused.  Then he sort of shrugged and said, “Maybe if nothing else, you and I could be together.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  He opened his mouth to protest, to say that he didn’t want to have sex with anyone, not just with Ginny, and then he realized that Neville had a similar problem.  He frowned and looked down.  

 

“Maybe,” he said slowly, after the silence stretched.  It was something to think about, at least, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the idea.  It wasn’t a bad idea.

 

“Just something to consider,” Neville said, and then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek before disappearing into the castle.

 

Harry lifted his fingers to touch the part of his cheek where Neville had kissed, his cheeks flaming into a bright blush once again.  He closed his eyes and wondered if maybe… maybe Neville had a good idea, because… that sounded really nice, actually.

 

And then his thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of giggles, and Harry groaned and opened his eyes.  Several of his Hufflepuff first years were staring at him, delight in their young eyes, which were sparkling.  “Are you and Professor Longbottom dating?” one of the giggling girls asked.

 

Harry sighed.  “Maybe,” he told her, and knew that it was going to be all over the school by dinner time.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

It was all over the school by dinner time, as evinced by the students who looked at Harry, then at Neville, then started to giggle helplessly.  The rumor had even spread past the students, judging by the way that Minerva chuckled quietly into her hand when Neville sat next to Harry, and the way that Teddy sent Neville a sharply assessing look.

 

“Leave him alone,” Harry said to Teddy, who endeavored to look innocent.  “I’m serious, Teddy.  Neville and I are still trying to work out what, exactly, this is, if it’s even anything to work out.”

 

“Rumor has it that the Hufflepuff firsties caught you blushing outside like you were a firstie yourself,” Teddy said.  He leaned around Harry to poke at Neville.  “Professor Longbottom, you should remember what a terror I can be when provoked.  You’d better not hurt my godfather.”

 

Neville’s response was mildly amused.  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his lips twitching.

 

Harry groaned and tried his best to ignore everyone.  He finished his dinner as quickly as possible and fled the Great Hall, all the while trying to look as though he weren’t fleeing at all.  He was pretty sure that he failed, given the laughter that started as soon as the door closed behind him.

 

He sighed.  He supposed it was better that they gossip about his potential love life than about the divorce.  Still…  He didn’t like it.  It was the one thing he hated about being a teacher, that he was stuck being very much in the eyes of the students at all times.  He’d hated it about being an Auror, too, so at least this was a little better than that had been.

 

He reached his room and let out a small sigh of relief.  Finally, he could relax a little bit.  Hopefully, anyway.  He didn’t have any grading to worry about and Neville wouldn’t be over until around nine.  That would give him time, at least, to think about what Neville had said.  About their maybe-relationship, and whether it was going to be a thing or not.

 

Except that his rooms were very much occupied, by Hermione.  And Ron, actually, and… and Ginny.  Harry took a deep breath and swallowed.  “Hi,” he managed, the word coming out softly, like he was frightened.  Which was fair.  He was pretty sure that he was frightened, honestly.

 

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to turn around and run to the Great Hall, to go and see if Neville would be willing to go through this conversation with him, because he couldn’t… he didn’t know that he could handle this.

 

“Harry,” Ginny breathed.  She stood and held her hands out to him, the gesture almost helpless, like she didn’t mean to do it.  “You look awful.”

 

“So Hermione told me,” Harry muttered.  He looked down even as he came further into the room.  “I haven’t been sleeping well, but I’ll be fine.”

 

“Will you?” she asked.  “I can’t imagine that our children acting the way that they have been is doing you any good.”  Ginny shook her head.  “When I found out about the letter that Lily sent you…”

 

“She’s within her rights-”

 

“If I were mad at you, it would be one thing, but Harry, this was a decision that you and I arrived at mutually.”  Ginny shook her head again.  “If they’re going to be mad at anyone, really, they should be mad at me.  I’m so sorry that I couldn’t…”

 

“It’s not your fault!”  Harry swallowed and looked up at her, steeling himself to see the pity in her eyes.  It was there, just as he’d expected.  “There’s nothing wrong with you, and there’s nothing wrong with your wanting a proper relationship.  I’m the one who’s broken, the one who can’t give you what you need, who couldn’t… it’s normal for a wife to want her husband to want…”

 

“I really don’t think we should be here for this conversation,” Ron muttered, probably to Hermione.

 

“It’s fine,” Hermione muttered back.

 

“It’s really not,” Harry said, suddenly annoyed.  He turned his attention to her.  “This is the second time you’ve ambushed me in my rooms, Hermione.  Was there something in particular you wanted this time, or did you just come to tell me how I’m doing everything wrong again?”

 

Hermione winced, then looked down.  “I wanted to apologize for doing it the first time,” she muttered.  Then she cleared her throat and looked up.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done it this time, and I knew it, and I did it anyway.  And even worse, I brought two other people too, and that wasn’t okay.”  She swallowed.  “I’m sorry, Harry.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “It’s okay,” he said, suddenly tired.  He glanced at Ron.  “What do you have to say?  Come to yell at me again for leaving your sister?”

 

Ron looked away.  “Ginny keeps telling me that you didn’t leave her,” he said quietly.  “That it was a mutual decision.  That you couldn’t… give her things that she needed, even though she wouldn’t elaborate.”

 

Harry’s cheeks flamed and he shot his ex-wife a dirty look.  Ginny just stared back at him, entirely nonplussed.  “That’s right,” he said finally.  “That’s why we divorced.”

 

“Then I’ve been an asshole to you for no reason,” Ron said.  “And I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that.  Even if I think you two should have tried harder to work things out than you did.”

 

Harry shook his head and made a sharp, negating gesture.  “You don’t know how hard we tried!” he snapped.  “We tried… we tried lots of things.  I went to therapy, for God’s sake!  I tried…”  Harry shook his head again and clenched his teeth.  He looked away.

 

“You’re right that we don’t know how hard you tried,” Hermione said immediately.  “And Ron and I were wrong to assume that we did know.”  She elbowed her husband in the stomach.

 

Ron immediately said, “Yeah, mate, we were wrong.”

 

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  “Well thank fuck for that.  You two were wrong.  The world can go back to normal now.”  He put his glasses back on and opened his eyes.  He was glaring at both Ron and Hermione, and he didn’t feel bad about it.

 

“Harry,” Ginny said quietly.  She touched his elbow to get his attention, and he turned to look at her.  “You can be angry with them both, that’s allowed.  I don’t blame you at all, but maybe you shouldn’t say anything you might regret?”

 

Harry swallowed.  “Yeah.”  He ran a hand through his hair and rocked back on his heels.  “I appreciate the intention behind your visit, but I really think that maybe it might be best for all of you to leave.”

 

“Of course,” Ginny said immediately.  “Really, Harry, I just wanted to reiterate that I don’t blame you, and that I didn’t know that the kids were being such asses to you.  I’m going to talk to them for you, and we’ll see if we can’t get this worked out.  I’ll owl you with information about when I’m coming next, hopefully with all three of them.”

 

“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry said.  He moved further into the room so that he could get out of her way.  Ginny left the room, and Harry turned his attention to Ron and Hermione.

 

Hermione was still looking rather chagrined.  “I’ll owl next time before I come,” she said with a small wince.  “Sorry, Harry.”

 

Ron just shrugged.  “I’m glad we’re gonna get this worked out, mate.”  He smiled as he brushed past Harry.  “We’ll owl next time.  Or Floo.  Or something.”

 

“Thanks, both of you,” Harry said tiredly.

 

When the door closed behind him, Harry collapsed onto the couch.  He was so tired, and nine o’clock felt like it was going to be forever from now.  He checked the time and his eyes widened.  Or not.  It was almost eight o’clock, which meant that he had less time than he thought.

 

He stripped out of his clothes for the day and took a quick shower, then put on his pajamas.  He settled in his favorite chair with a book to wait for Neville.

 

He found that he couldn’t read, especially since Neville would be there in less than a half hour.  He couldn’t make himself focus enough, which was frustrating.  The time crawled by.  Harry sighed and finally closed the book.  He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  It didn’t help that he was just… exhausted.  That he was always exhausted.

 

The portrait cleared its throat, and Harry’s eyes darted to him.  “Professor Longbottom-”

 

“Let him in,” Harry said quickly.  He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that the portrait was laughing at him as it he disappeared to do just that.

 

The door opened and Neville slipped into Harry’s living room.  “Oh, Harry,” Neville said with a small sigh.  He crossed the room and knelt in front of Harry.  “You look even worse than you did earlier today.  What happened?”

 

“I got back to some visitors,” Harry said tiredly.  “Hermione was here, and she brought Ron and Ginny.  It was… uncomfortable.”

 

Neville shook his head and muttered something.  Harry didn’t catch what he said, but it sounded uncomplimentary.  “Well, let’s try and get you to bed, then.”

 

Harry winced.  “But it’s so early,” he said quietly.  “If you aren’t tired, then I don’t want to make you go to bed this early.”

 

Neville just shook his head again, stood, and drew Harry to his feet.  “I brought a book to read,” he said.  “If you don’t mind leaving a candle burning for me.  I promise I won’t go to sleep with it still burning.”

 

Harry swallowed and let himself be pulled up.  “Okay,” he said finally.  “Thanks, Neville.”

 

They went into the bedroom, and Harry stilled.  What now?  He didn’t… it had literally been years since he’d slept with someone other than Ginny.  In fact, he didn’t think that he’d ever actually spent the night beside anyone other than her.  

 

He found that he didn’t know what to do, and it was making him uncomfortable.

 

Harry swallowed.  “What…” He stopped.  He didn’t even know how to ask his question.

 

“Which side of the bed do you sleep on?” Neville asked carefully, like he was measuring every word.  When Harry looked at him, Neville was watching him carefully.  Probably making sure that Harry didn’t bolt, which… wasn’t that far off the mark of what he might do.

 

“The right,” he said finally.  “When I’m not alone, when I was with Ginny, I’d sleep on the right.”

 

Neville nodded towards the bed.  “Go ahead, then,” he suggested.  “Get into bed, and I’ll join you in a moment.”

 

Harry hesitated.  Getting into bed… yes, it was what he’d invited Neville over for, but… he was afraid.  What if something went wrong?  What if Neville had lied about not being interested in sex, and he tried to touch Harry, and…  He shook his head.  That was ridiculous.  This was Neville he was thinking about, not some monster.  Neville would never do that to him, to anyone, and would probably be highly offended that he’d thought it in the first place.

 

He slid into bed on the right side and let his head fall back onto the pillow.  “What now?” He stared up at the ceiling.

 

He heard the covers rustle, then felt the bed dip beside him.  Neville slid into bed, sitting close enough to Harry that Harry could feel his warmth, but not too close.  “Now you close your eyes and try to sleep,” Neville responded softly, gently.  He was leaning back against the headboard, his book in hand.  Harry realized that he must have come with his robe over his pajamas, because he was wearing a perfectly comfortable looking flannel set.

 

Harry took a deep breath and took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand.  He closed his eyes and tried to relax.  It wasn’t easy.  He was distracted by the sound of Neville turning the pages in his book, by the feel of Neville breathing beside him, by everything.

 

But still, it was nice… it was very nice.  Harry’s breathing started to even out, and his muscles started to relax without his noticing.  Neville was so warm beside him, so safe…  Harry didn’t even realize he was moving until he was pressing closer to Neville, his head resting on the other professor’s leg.  He sighed happily when Neville shifted just enough to rest a hand on his head with a murmur of encouragement, a soft acknowledgment that this was okay.

 

Harry fell asleep with his head resting on Neville’s leg, Neville’s hand on his hair, and had no bad dreams of any kind for the first time in what felt like forever.


	4. Chapter Four

 

Harry woke up and, for the first time in what felt like an absolute eternity, even though it couldn’t have possibly been as long as it felt like, he actually felt well-rested.  He was warm and comfortable and loathe to do so much as open one eye, but… but he kind of needed to pee, actually.

 

Harry sighed and forced himself to open not only one eye, but both.  He really should go and take care of that before he had an unfortunate accident, but he just didn’t want to move.  Didn’t want to make Neville move, not now that he’d finally slept for the first time in months.  And besides, it was still early enough to be dark outside, and Neville was fast asleep, at least Harry assumed so judging by the soft snores that stirred his hair.

 

Neville had, at some point in the night, curled all the way around Harry, so that he was wrapped in what he could only describe as an octopus-like grip.  There was literally no possible way that Harry could get out of bed without disturbing Neville in some way, so with a small sigh, Harry gave in to the inevitable.

 

He began the laborious process of extracting himself from Neville’s grip carefully, still trying not to disturb his… his what, his boyfriend?  Was that what they were doing?  Harry was pretty sure that was what they were doing.  The thought made his cheeks heat up, even as he continued to free himself from Neville’s grip without disturbing the other professor.

 

It wasn’t working, to Harry’s great consternation.  Every time he removed one of Neville’s limbs, it returned to its old position as soon as Harry started to work on another.  He let out a small hiss of frustration and continued to work on it, but he was having no luck.  He was starting to think that he’d have no choice but to disturb Neville when he heard a small, sleepy laugh.

 

“You fucker,” Harry hissed at him.  “Let me go!  I need to pee.”

 

Neville continued to laugh quietly as he unwound his arms from Harry and let him out of the bed.  “Hurry back,” Neville said sleepily.

 

Just for that, Harry made sure to pull the covers off of Neville as he darted to the bathroom, and laughed to himself at Neville’s muffled swears as the door closed between them.  He completed his business with relative speed, then left the bathroom and found himself staring at Neville.

 

Neville had covered himself in the blankets once more, turning himself into little more than a lump of covers.  His head was sticking out, though, and he was still laughing a bit at his own earlier antics.  He looked tired, still, probably because he hadn’t gone to sleep at nine o’clock at night like Harry had.

 

“You coming back to bed?” Neville asked, his voice thick with tiredness.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said.  He shook off his slightly dazed state and returned to the bed.  He crawled in, making sure to press his cold feet against Neville’s warm legs.  He enjoyed the irritated noises Neville made.  “That’s what you get for picking on me earlier,” Harry muttered.

 

“My sincerest apologies,” Neville whispered, managing to sound neither apologetic nor sincere.  He curled around Harry once more and pulled him close.  “Is this okay?” he asked.  “I didn’t know I was going to do it while we were asleep, but I think it’s nice.”

 

“It is nice,” Harry said, suddenly a bit shy.  He closed his eyes and shifted ever so slightly closer.  “I like it.”

 

“I’m glad,” Neville whispered.  His lips brushed against Harry’s forehead, and Harry smiled sleepily as he drifted off to sleep once more.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

When Harry woke later, it was to the smell of sausages and bacon and breakfast, and suddenly he was quite ravenous.  He blinked his eyes open and sat up.  Neville was still sitting next to him, and there was a covered tray resting on his lap.

 

“I was waiting for you to get up, and I figured the smell of food might be the only thing to manage it,” Neville said teasingly.

 

Harry sighed and shifted to lean against Neville.  “I didn’t eat much for dinner last night,” he said.

 

“Of course you didn’t,” Neville agreed.  He uncovered the tray, revealing two plates that were heaping with breakfast foods.  “You never do when you’re nervous.  There’s nothing wrong with that, I just wanted you to actually eat breakfast instead of sleeping through it.”

 

Harry sighed and nodded and reached for one of the plates.  “Thanks,” he said, still tired.  It seemed like now that he’d finally actually gotten some real sleep, his body just didn’t want to wake up anymore.  What had he done to himself over the past few months of bad sleep?

 

“At least we did this on a Friday so that you don’t have to be out and about today,” Neville pointed out.  “I’m perfectly content with the idea of staying in bed all day and letting you catch up on the sleep you’ve missed out on these past few months.”

 

Harry sighed, because that sounded like absolute heaven.  “Can we?” he asked, a bit pathetic in his gratefulness.  He shoved a piece of sausage in his mouth so he couldn’t embarrass himself any further.  Not that he really thought that Neville would think he was pathetic.

 

“Of course,” Neville answered.  “I brought several books, and I have some grading I can get done, too.  I wouldn’t have offered if I’d had a problem with the idea.”

 

“Okay,” Harry said, his voice a little small.  He took another bite of sausage, then switched over to pick at some eggs.  He was hungry, but he knew he wouldn’t finish all of the food on his plate.  Hopefully Neville wouldn’t ask too many questions about that.

 

Harry hated talking about the Dursleys and the lingering damage their ‘care’ had on his appetite, but if Neville asked then he knew that he would tell him.  Neville deserved to know just what he was getting himself involved with, after all.

 

He managed to eat as much as he could, which really wasn’t much when compared to Neville’s mostly-cleaned plate, and had just curled up to go back to sleep when he heard his portrait clearing his throat.

 

“What?” Harry asked with a small groan.  What could it possibly be?  He knew that Hermione wouldn’t come back today, not after having just promised to owl next time.  And Ginny… probably wouldn’t.  He hoped.  So who… if it was a who, anyway.  Maybe there was some kind of emergency.  Merlin, Harry hoped not.

 

“You have a visitor,” the portrait said.  “She’s waiting outside of your rooms, and doesn’t seem inclined to leave.”

 

Neville scowled and sat up.  “Stay in bed, I’ll go deal with this.”  He slid from the bed without giving Harry a chance to protest.

 

That was okay.  Harry wasn’t actually inclined to protest.  If it was Hermione, she’d get what she deserved for intruding a third time.  If it was Ginny, Harry trusted Neville to be polite.  If it was anybody else, for any other kind of emergency, Harry trusted Neville to deal with it with his usual compassion and constancy.  He closed his eyes and let himself relax back into the bed, curling into the warm spot that Neville had left behind.  It wasn’t quite as good as curling into Neville himself, but it was still very nice.

 

He let out a small sigh when he heard the door open.  “Who was it?” he asked quietly, sleepily.  He wondered how ridiculous he looked, practically curled around Neville’s pillow the way that he was.

 

“It’s Lily,” Neville said quietly.

 

Harry’s heart stopped.  He jerked upright, his eyes gone wide, his heart pounding with a sudden rush of adrenaline.  Lily.  His daughter.  She was here, in his rooms, unless Neville had sent her away, and he didn’t think that Neville had done that.

 

“Lily,” he gasped out, and stumbled out of bed.  “I have to see her.”  She was the first of his children to visit him, and Harry knew that he needed to talk to her while he had the chance to do so.  Who knew when he’d get a chance to try again?

 

“Harry,” Neville started, and then stopped.  He sounded unhappy, frustrated, and Harry looked at him through wide, wounded eyes.

 

“You don’t think I should talk to her?” he asked, a bit incredulous.  How could Neville even think something like that?  She was his  _ daughter _ .  Harry had to at least try to talk to her, didn’t he understand that?

 

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” Neville said hastily.  “I was just… she’s not…”  Neville sighed.  “She’s drawn some conclusions about the fact that I opened the door to your rooms in my pajamas,” he said finally.

 

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked at the door to his bedroom like it was going to slam open and his daughter was going to storm in at any moment.  Knowing Lily, if he took too long that might very well be the case.  “Oh,” he said, his voice small.

 

“She’s not thrilled,” Neville muttered, and scrubbed at the back of his head.  “Do you want me to come out there with you, or-”

 

“I think it would be better if you didn’t,” Harry said, the words feeling distant.  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, it’s just…”

 

“It’s okay,” Neville said.  “You handle this any way you need to.”  There was something so warm, so understanding in Neville’s voice that it made Harry’s heart ache.  “Merlin, Harry, you could just tell her that you’re spending the nights with me because you’re having trouble sleeping.  You don’t have to let her think-”

 

“Think that we’re dating?” Harry interrupted.  He shook his head.  “I won’t lie to her.”  Then he smiled a bit at Neville, the expression shy.  “You did…”  He swallowed.  “You did say that you wanted to, right?”

 

A blush bloomed over Neville’s cheeks, dark red and spreading.  “Yeah,” he said, and swallowed.  “That’s what I said.”

 

Harry’s smile strengthened.  He nodded and, still blushing ever so slightly from his own boldness, he ducked out of the bedroom and out into his living room, where Lily was waiting.

 

She didn’t seem amused by the sight of his blush, or by the fact that Harry was still wearing his pajamas.  If anything, the already fearsome scowl on her face grew even more so.  “Really, Dad?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.  “It’s ten in the morning, why are you still in your pajamas?”

 

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Harry said with a small sigh.  He reached for Lily, said to her, “It’s nice to see you, Lily.”

 

She jerked away before he could touch her.  “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.  “You think it’s nice to see me?  How could you say that?”

 

“It is nice to see you,” he insisted.  Harry tried not to let the hurt he felt at the rejection show on his face.  “I’ve missed you, and your brothers.  I’ve been… sad.”  He didn’t know how else to word it.  Sad was about as accurate as he could be.  He’d been very sad since his children had rejected him, depressed even.  That might have been the worst part of the divorce with Ginny, honestly.

 

“If you miss us, why haven’t you come to see us?” Lily asked, her voice sharp.  She was sitting with her back as straight as possible, and Harry knew that was a bad sign.  His daughter was tense and unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.  Unfortunately, he didn’t think that he could.

 

“You told me that you didn’t want me at your party,” Harry said, as neutrally as he could.  He sat on the couch across from her.  “So I didn’t come.  And I thought it was better to give all three of you space, rather than trying to force you to adjust to everything.”

 

Lily just shook her head.  “And is that part of the everything we’re supposed to adjust to?” she asked.  She jerked her head in the direction of Harry’s bedroom.

 

Harry knew that his flush returned, as bright as ever.  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but Harry wouldn’t do that to Neville.  “Maybe,” he said.  “What do you think about that?”

 

Lily’s eyes narrowed, and Harry braced himself.  Whatever she was going to say couldn’t possibly be nice, not with that expression on her face.  “I think that you shouldn’t have married mum if you were just going to turn out to be a pouf,” she hissed.

 

Harry flinched, the words making his heart ache.  He rubbed at his chest.  “That’s not a very kind word,” he said.

 

Lily’s smile was almost cruel.  “I didn’t mean for it to be,” she shot back.

 

Harry knew that she didn’t have a problem with gay men.  It was just with him, and he wasn’t even sure that he really qualified as gay at all.  He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t really find the words.  “I’m sorry,” was all he said, in the end.  He spread his hands, helpless.  What more could he do?  He didn’t know.

 

“Yeah.”  She looked away, her jaw jutted forward.  She stood, then, and sighed.  “You know that I’m going to have to tell James and Albus about this, and I doubt that they’re going to be pleased.”

 

Harry’s heart stuttered.  He hadn’t heard from either of his two other children lately, and… and…  “Lily, please,” he whispered.  “Let me…”  He swallowed and tried to force words out around the lump forming in his throat.  “Let me talk to them?  In my own time.   I swear I’ll do it soon.”

 

She just shook her head.  “I don’t trust you,” she responded.  “You weren’t going to tell us anytime soon about Professor Longbottom, so I’ll tell them.”

 

“Lily,” Harry started, but she’d stood already.  “Please,” he tried, and his voice broke on the word.  He stood and took a single step towards her.  He could feel the tears that had welled in his eyes threatening to overflow, but he didn’t want his daughter to see him cry.  Not over this.

 

She didn’t say anything to him, not even a goodbye.  She just left.

 

Harry closed his eyes in an effort to stop the tears, but it didn’t work.  They overflowed, and he let out a hoarse, choked sob.  He sank back down into the couch and curled his arms around himself, his tears falling almost soundlessly.

 

He felt someone settle on the couch beside him, felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and knew that it was Neville.  He let himself fall into him, his sobs shaking his body with their force.  Neville took off his glasses carefully so that Harry didn’t have to worry about accidentally crushing them, and pulled him closer.

 

“Why does she hate me?” Harry asked through his tears.

 

Neville shushed him quietly, gently.  “She doesn’t hate you,” he said soothingly.  “She’s just acting out, and I know that it’s hurting you, but we both know that she doesn’t hate you.”

 

“But what if she does?” Harry pressed closer, so that he was practically in Neville’s lap.  Neville didn’t seem to mind, and instead readjusted his hold on Harry so that they were both more comfortable.

 

“Then there’s nothing we can do about it,” Neville said softly.  “All you can do is wait for her to come to you, to forgive you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Harry’s tears finally stopped, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted and not at all better. Whoever said crying was cathartic had lied, and Harry didn’t appreciate it.  “What if she doesn’t?” he asked, his voice small.

 

“Then there’s nothing we can do to make her,” Neville answered.  “I wish I had something more comforting to say, but the fact of the matter is that there is no way to make someone forgive you, whether you need the forgiveness or not.”

 

Harry sighed and let his eyes fall closed.  “Why isn’t anything ever easy?” he asked Neville.

 

Neville just sighed in return and began to pet Harry, his hands gentle in Harry’s hair.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I keep hoping that one day something will go perfectly well, but that doesn’t even happen with lesson planning.”

 

Harry couldn’t help the small, soggy laugh that escaped him.  “Thanks,” he said, and genuinely meant it.

 

“It’s not a problem,” Neville said softly, reassuringly.  “You know that I don’t mind being here with you.”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The afternoon passed quietly after Lily left.  Harry stayed in Neville’s arms for a fair amount of time, but eventually moved because his stomach growled.  The two went to the Great Hall for the meal, at an odd hour when most of the students had already been and gone, so the meal was relatively quiet.  There were a few third year girls who giggled at the sight of them together, and Harry just sighed. He thought that was something that they’d probably have to get used to.

 

Neville laughed at him, and at his slight exasperation, and, just as he and Harry were getting ready to leave after lunch, leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek in the middle of the conversation.  This caused a flurry of giggles and Harry’s face to go bright red all at the same time.

 

“Why do you hate me?” Harry hissed as the two of them exited the Great Hall.

 

“You know that I don’t,” Neville said soothingly.  “And just think, we’ve made their day!”

 

Harry let out a disgruntled mutter, but he wasn’t actually that upset.  Just embarrassed, and he hated the way that his cheeks could still turn red like that in front of everyone.  He’d thought that he’d gotten over the worst of his embarrassment immediately after Voldemort’s defeat, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

 

Neville bumped into him as he walked, deliberately straying into Harry’s path.  “You mad?” he asked, and sounded genuinely concerned.

 

Harry altered his path as well, so that he deliberately bumped into Neville, their shoulders brushing.  “Not at all,” he said after a moment of silence.  “Just… embarrassed.  But I’ll get used to it, and I’d imagine the students will soon enough as well.”

 

“I hope so,” Neville said through a gale of sudden laughter.  “Can you imagine if they don’t?  It would be awful, dealing with giggling students as I’m trying to instruct them in the fine art of repotting mandrakes.”

 

“Or when I’m trying to teach them not to fall off their broom in the middle of class,” Harry said dryly.

 

They rounded the corner and found themselves in Harry’s hallway, and Harry found himself rooted in place, his heart in his throat.  His other two children, James and Albus, were in the hallway, waiting.  Albus was leaning against a wall, looking as cool and relaxed as he always did.  James, on the other hand, was visibly agitated and was pacing back and forth, his jaw clenched.

 

Harry exhaled and stepped forward, drawing both of their attention.  James’ gaze zeroed in on Neville, his eyes narrowed.  “So Lily was telling the truth,” he said shortly, sharply.

 

“She was,” Harry said as evenly as he could.  He still ached from Lily’s earlier rejection, and was genuinely unsure if he could handle another one from his children so soon.  Or one from both, for that matter.  What if they all hated him for this, for something he genuinely couldn’t control?  Even if he wasn’t with Neville, and he didn’t think that he was willing to give that up no matter how new the relationship was, he couldn’t be with Ginny anymore.

 

James just shook his head.  “I don’t want to have this conversation in the hall.”  He jerked his head towards Harry’s portrait.  “Aunt ‘Mione told us how to get in without you, but we didn’t want to just break into your rooms.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Harry said, a bit dryly.

 

“We didn’t know what we’d see,” James continued, a bit snidely.  “There are some things a young man doesn’t want to see his father doing, you know?  Especially not with his ex-professor.”

 

Harry sighed, a headache starting just behind his eyes.  “Right,” he muttered.  So that was how it was going to be, apparently.  His children were all up in arms over this, and he knew them well enough that he couldn’t imagine that it would blow over easily.

 

And to think, they were grown adults now.  He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if this whole thing had happened when they’d been younger.  Would they have been more accepting, or less?  Was it even possible to be less accepting than this?

 

Never mind.  That was a stupid thought.  Of course it was.  They hadn’t greeted him with physical violence, after all.  Just verbal anger.  That was something, he supposed.

 

Harry opened the door to his rooms and waited for both of his children to precede him into the room before following behind them, Neville bringing up the rear.  Neville’s hand, which appeared on the small of his back, was a small, yet solid, comforting presence that reminded him that he wasn’t alone.  As frustrating as all of this was, as bad as his relationships with his children were going at this point, he had Neville.

 

Neville didn’t make it all worth it, nothing on earth could make losing his children worth it, but he was very nice to have.

 

Harry sighed and closed the door behind them, and when he turned around, he was braced for what was surely going to be an impossibly difficult conversation.  “Well?” he asked, and raised his eyebrows at James.  “I assume you have something you’d like to say about this.”

 

James’ jaw jutted out.  “Did you leave Mum because you’re gay?” he asked bluntly.

 

“I don’t think that I am gay,” Harry answered.  “I don’t know what I am.  I’m happy with Neville, though.”

 

“And you couldn’t be happy with Mum?”  James shook his head.  “No offense to Professor Longbottom, but he hasn’t got anything that Mum doesn’t.  Except the obvious, of course, but that shouldn’t matter if you aren’t gay.”

 

Harry sighed again and sat down in one of the chairs.  Neville followed him over and, instead of taking the chair next to him, stood behind Harry.  He rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders, and Harry leaned back into the touch.  “I… your mother and I had some difficulties that I’m not prepared to discuss with-”

 

“Bullshit!”  James slashed his hand through the air, and Harry was very glad that his son didn’t have his wand in hand when he made the motion.  It was painfully similar to the one used to cast a very powerful dark curse.  “If you can make it work with him, you could have made it work with Mum!”

 

“That’s not true,” Albus pointed out, speaking up suddenly.  “James, you know that two people are sometimes just irreconcilably different.  Or didn’t you just break up with-”

 

“It’s different!” James snapped.  “We didn’t have a family that we destroyed with our selfishness!”

 

Harry’s heart broke, and he let out a shuddering breath.  This wasn’t helping, letting himself be spoken to like this.  So instead, Harry stood.  “We’re done with this conversation,” he said.  He walked to the door and opened it.  “I love you, James, and I love Lily, and I love Albus, but I’m tired of the three of you blaming me for something that isn’t my fault.  Your mother and I mutually decided that divorce was the best option.  We’re still friends, and we still love you very much.  Until you’re able to accept that your mother and I made this decision together, I think you should leave.”

 

James didn’t even respond.  He just stared at his father through wide, wounded eyes, then stalked from the room without another word.  Albus, however, didn’t move.  His Slytherin son was studying him, a small frown on his face.

 

“I don’t blame you,” Albus said finally.  “And I’m glad that you’re happy with Professor Longbottom, Dad.  I’ll work on the James and Lily.  I’m sure that they’ll come around if you give them time.”

 

Harry just sighed, some of the tension draining away from him.  “Thanks, Albus,” he said tiredly.  “I appreciate it.”

 

His son gave him a quick, awkward hug before leaving the room, leaving Harry and Neville alone again.

 

Harry sagged, the last of his energy fading quickly.  He was so tired of all of this fighting, and just wanted it to be over.  He’d fought for so much in life, and to have it all gone just because he couldn’t give Ginny the relationship she’d wanted…  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

 

“Tired?” Neville asked softly, and Harry’s eyes jerked open.  Neville was standing directly in front of him, in his personal space, a small frown on his face.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said.  He took off his glasses and scrubbed at his face with one hand.  “I don’t know why.  I slept better than I’ve slept in a very long time last night.”

 

“Because you haven’t been sleeping,” Neville responded gently.  “Come on, we can have a small nap on the couch.”  Neville took Harry by the hand and led him over to said couch, then settled down on it and pulled Harry down after him.

 

Harry sighed, toed off his shoes, then curled into Neville, so that his head rested on Neville’s shoulder and his feet were tucked into the opposite corner of the couch.  He let Neville take his glasses from him without protesting, and let his eyes fall closed.  A nap sounded wonderful.

 

But before he could drift off to sleep, he murmured, “I’m sorry for dragging you into the mess of my life.”

 

Neville’s hand landed in his hair and began to stroke it.  “I don’t mind,” Neville said quietly, and Harry couldn’t detect any sort of lie in his voice.  “I don’t mind at all.  You’re more than worth any messiness.”

 

Harry drifted off to sleep once more with a small smile on his face.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“You realize that if you ever hurt my godfather, I’m going to have to murder you.”  The words were said in such a conversational tone that Harry had trouble realizing that the speaker was absolutely serious, and his eyes flew open.

 

Teddy was in his sitting room, sitting across from himself and Neville, and that was about all that Harry could make out without his glasses on.  He closed his eyes again and wondered if he was dreaming, because why would Teddy be threatening Neville otherwise?

 

“I realize that you’d try,” Neville responded, and he sounded mostly amused.  “But you do remember that I went toe to toe with Voldemort myself during my final year at Hogwarts, don’t you?  Do you really think you’re more frightening than he was?”

 

Teddy let out a bark of laughter.  “Please,” he said.  “Harry defeated Voldemort when he was in his seventh year, right?  My godfather’s never yet beaten me in a prank war.  I can be more terrifying than Voldemort if I have to be, just you wait and see.”

 

“Or, and I realize that this might be something of a radical notion, I could not break your godfather’s heart and you could not need to follow through on your threats,” Neville pointed out.

 

Harry groped for his glasses as Teddy leaned back in his chair.  “Obviously, that would be the ideal outcome to all of this.”

 

“Teddy, didn’t I ask you to be nice to Neville?” Harry asked as he sat up and put his glasses on.

 

“You did, but I decided that a threat was in order,” Teddy said with a bright grin.  “I’m sorry, Harry.”

 

Harry just shook his head.  “You staying for dinner?” he asked.  He really didn’t  feel like going to the Great Hall, not after the day he’d had.  He didn’t think that Minerva would mind, either.  At least, he hoped not.  

 

“Dinner sounds great!” Teddy said, and jumped to his feet.  “You know, house elf cooking is one of the things that I missed most about Hogwarts.”

 

Harry laughed and nodded.  “It is really good,” he agreed.  He could have gotten one or two of his own once he’d graduated, but Ginny had been as strongly opposed to them as Hermione had been, and Harry hadn’t been inclined to fight his then-wife on the matter.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to do just about any kind of housework, thanks to the Dursleys.

 

“I’ll agree to that,” Neville said.  Then he laughed a little.  “It’s one of the things that I don’t miss about Hannah.  Neither one of us could cook, but she insisted on trying anyway.”

 

“Doesn’t she run-” Harry started.

 

Neville laughed.  “She had to hire a cook,” he said, still laughing.

 

For such a stressful day, the rest of the evening passed with good food, good company, and a lot of laughter.  It was a good night, and when Harry went to bed curled up against Neville once more, still tired in spite of his nap, he had only good dreams.


	5. Chapter Five

 

Harry woke to the smell of breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast and tea, and smiled sleepily even as he burrowed further into the covers.  He didn’t particularly want to move, but then Neville came into the room and tugged on the covers.

 

“I want to sleep in,” Harry protested, his voice thick with sleep.

 

“You have,” Neville answered, laughing.  “It’s ten o’clock in the morning, Harry, and you have an owl waiting for you anyway.”

 

Harry sighed and rolled onto his back.  He reached for his glasses and put them on, then pouted up at Neville.  “Do I have to read it?” he asked.  “I’m still tired.”

 

Neville just shrugged.  “I suppose you don’t technically have to.”  He settled on the bed next to Harry and stroked Harry’s hair back from his forehead, his thumb stroking briefly over the mostly-healed scar that still lingered there.  “But I think it would be a good idea.  I think it’s from Hermione.”

 

Harry sighed.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head into Neville’s touch.  “That doesn’t make me want to open it,” he muttered.  He didn’t move.

 

“You still love her,” Neville pointed out.  “You miss her very much, don’t you?”

 

Harry didn’t answer.  Of course he did.  He missed his two best friends almost as much as he missed his children.  But… he didn’t trust Hermione to have changed her mind.  She was always so certain that she knew what was best, and if she’d decided that it was best for him to have stayed with Ginny…

 

“Harry…”  Neville leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.  “Come on.  You don’t have to answer the letter, you know.  You don’t even really have to read it, though I think it would be a good idea.  But you do need to eat breakfast.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “I’m not hungry,” he complained, even though it did smell good.  It smelled very good, and his stomach growled loudly, making a liar out of him.

 

“And I suppose that’s just a basilisk in your stomach,” Neville teased, pulling back.  “Come on, at least eat breakfast with me.”

 

Harry sighed and sat up.  “Basilisks don’t even sound like that,” he complained, even as he made himself sit up and stand.  He stretched slowly, then followed Neville out of the room.  

 

Breakfast was set up on the table in the small dining area, and Harry settled at the table with a small yawn.  Neville presented him with tea, made just the way that Harry liked it, and Harry offered him a shy smile as he took a sip.  It was perfect.

 

Breakfast passed quietly, and Harry did manage to eat about half of what Neville put on his plate.  Afterwards, Neville settled on the couch with a book, and Harry grabbed the letter that was, in fact, from Hermione.  He swallowed as he studied it, and tried not to think of it as some kind of bomb.  That was ridiculous.  It wasn’t like Hermione was going to hurt him or anything, right?  She’d always been one of his most faithful friends…

 

He opened the letter with steady hands, and narrowed his eyes at the contents.  “She wants to come to dinner,” Harry said quietly.  “She has things she’d like to talk about with me.”

 

“Do you want to talk about them with her?” Neville asked.  He didn’t move from the couch, though he did put a bookmark in his book and close it, turning his full attention to Harry.

 

Harry just shook his head and shrugged.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “I think it depends on what it is that she wants to talk about.  If she wants to say how much better things would be if I were still with Ginny…”  Harry shuddered.

 

He didn’t need Hermione saying things like that, because he’d already had thoughts like that of his own.  He knew that they weren’t true, that he was happier now, that he was enjoying being with Neville, but that didn’t change the fact that he still wondered what would have happened between himself and Ginny if he’d been able to… well.  If he’d kept up the ruse.

 

“You can invite her to dinner tonight, but throw her out if she’s rude,” Neville pointed out.  “I’d be happy to stay with you, to make sure that she behaves herself, if you don’t think you can do it.”

 

Harry’s lips twitched.  “I stood up to Voldemort, you know,” he complained.  “And I was Head Auror for years.  You really think I can’t handle Hermione?”

 

Neville’s return smile was softer, more sympathetic.  “I think that you can,” he said immediately.  “But I don’t think that you want to.  I think that she’s one of your best friends, and I think that you’d rather put up with verbal abuse from her than call her on her bullshit.”

 

“You’re not wrong,” Harry said with a small wince.  “I just…”  Part of him still worried that they’d stop being friends one day, if he didn’t listen to her, even when she was being wildly inappropriate and injecting herself into places she had no business being.  “She’s my friend,” he said, a bit helplessly.

 

“She is, but that doesn’t give her license to hurt you with thoughtless words.”  Neville stood, then, and crossed the room to Harry.  “You don’t have to let yourself be hurt to keep up a friendship, Harry.  That’s now how real friendships work.  And I think that Hermione would actually be offended if she knew that you were afraid to speak your mind to her.”

 

Harry looked away, but didn’t fight as Neville pulled him into a loose hug.  “I know that she would,” Harry admitted.  “I just… I can’t help it, sometimes.  I think about how lonely I was before I had any friends, when I was growing up with the Dursleys, and then I think about how much of a mess I was before Minerva coaxed me into teaching after leaving Ginny, and…”

 

“I’ll stay with you while you have dinner with her,” Neville said, nodding sharply.  He didn’t comment on what Harry had just been saying, which was good because Harry didn’t actually want to talk that much about it.  “If you decide to have dinner with her at all, that is.”

 

“I’d like to,” Harry finally decided.  He leaned against Neville, his eyes falling closed.  “I’d like to have dinner with her, and I’d very much like it if you were there.”  Then he looked up, and smiled a little shakily.  “And not just because I want you to fight her off if she’s mean to me.  But because… because I think we’re dating, and I think it would be good for you to be there.”

 

Neville’s answering smile was bright.  “It would be my honor,” he said cheerfully.  He let Harry go, then, but slowly so that Harry could pull him closer if he wasn’t ready to stand on his own.  “To both defend your honor from Hermione and to be there as your boyfriend.”

 

Harry couldn’t help the small burst of laughter that escaped him.  He leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Neville’s lips, then drew away completely.  “I guess I should write to her and let her know that she’s welcome to come over around six?”

 

“Probably not a bad idea,” Neville agreed.

 

Harry settled back at the table and composed his returning letter.  He made sure to tell Hermione that she was welcome for dinner, and that Neville would be joining them as they were dating.  He didn’t include anything about unnerved he was at the thought of having dinner with her again, or how frightened he was that she was coming just to lecture him.  He just told her that they’d be happy to have her, and that they’d eat in his rooms.

 

Then he sent the letter off with one of the house elves, who had instructions to give it to one of the owls reserved for professors, and then he collapsed against Neville, causing the other professor to let out a small, startled noise.

 

“Letter’s sent,” he said, and closed his eyes.  He snuggled close, and felt Neville shift around so that his arms wrapped around Harry.  When Harry opened his eyes, he found that Neville was reading with his arms around Harry, in spite of how awkward the position had to be.

 

“You still tired?” Neville asked.  “If you want to sleep, you can.  You’ve got… what, seven hours until she gets here for dinner?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “I’m not at all tired,” he said honestly.  In fact… “If anything, I think I’m a little keyed up.”  He shifted in Neville’s arms, squirming to try and get comfortable.  Physically, he felt better than he had in a long time.  Probably because he’d actually slept a decent amount for two nights in a row, though he couldn’t be certain that was the reason.

 

“You could always go out and fly,” Neville suggested.  “It’s a beautiful day.  The kids are out playing, too, and would probably love it if their favorite teacher was out with them.”

 

Harry couldn’t help the small snort of laughter that escaped him.  “I’m not anyone’s favorite teacher,” he denied, shaking his head, still smiling at the very notion.

 

Neville tilted Harry’s chin up so that his neck was uncomfortably stretched, then looked down at him.  After studying Harry’s face for a few seconds, the Herbology professor just sighed and shook his head.  “Okay,” he said agreeably, even though it was clear that he didn’t agree with a word that Harry had just said.

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “You disagree?”

 

“I think you ought to go out flying and see how fast those kids come join you,” Neville answered immediately.

 

“You gonna come?” Harry asked.  He slipped out from Neville’s embrace, stood, and stretched again.  He felt his joints let out satisfying pops that made him smile a little bit.  He really did feel better than he’d felt in a very long time.  This whole sleep thing really did seem to be helping.

 

“What, flying?” Neville raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry with an expression on his face that suggested that Harry had lost his mind.  “I don’t think that’s the best idea, do you?”

 

“C’mon,” Harry urged.  “Just come up on a broom with me.  You’ll be fine!”

 

“Harry, you do remember how disastrous my first year was, right?” Even though he complained, Neville still put his bookmark back and stood as well, moving just a bit slower than Harry.  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

 

“It’ll be fun,” Harry promised, even as he backed up several steps in the general direction of his bedroom.  “You’ll come?”

 

Neville sighed.  “I’m going to regret this,” Harry heard him mutter under his breath.  Then he shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips.  “Yeah, sure, why not?  I’ll meet you out by the Quidditch pitch, okay?”

 

Harry beamed.  “Sounds good!”  He darted forward and kissed Neville quickly on the lips, then danced back before Neville could respond.  “See you out there in a bit!”

 

He heard Neville let out a large, theatrical sigh.  “I’m regretting this already,” he said, before leaving the room.

 

Harry just grinned as he got dressed.  With two of his favorite things combined, what could possibly go wrong?  Neville had to have improved on a broom since his very first lesson, Harry knew it.  After all, he’d had other lessons after that disastrous first one, so surely he couldn’t be that bad.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, Harry!” Neville shouted as they climbed further into the air on their respective brooms.

 

Harry laughed lightly and shifted on his broom, leading it over so that he could brush up against Neville.  He did so carefully, though, so as not to startle him and scare him off of his broom.  “You’re doing great, though,” Harry pointed out.

 

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great,” Neville answered.  His eyes were wide and his grip on his broom was white-knuckled.  He looked petrified.  “I feel like I’m going to fall off at any minute.”

 

“Have you even been on a broom since your first year?” Harry asked.  He supposed that was something he should have asked long before actually getting Neville out on the broom, but it hadn’t occurred to him that someone might be so afraid of flying as to never be on a broom.

 

“A few times,” Neville said.  “But not often at all.  And I don’t like going as high as we are right now.”

 

Harry looked down, judging the distance between them and the ground.  It didn’t seem that high to him, but he didn’t want to make Neville uncomfortable.  “Then we’ll go down,” he said cheerfully.  “I won’t be offended if you’d rather not stay up here, you know.  I just thought it might be fun.”

 

He couldn’t help being a bit disappointed, though he would never tell Neville that.  He’d liked flying with Ginny when they’d been younger and had more time together, before he’d been promoted and she’d gone from being a professional player to a commentator.  And then, when they did have time again, things between them were too strained for them to have much in the way of fun.  He’d sort of hoped…

 

But Neville wasn’t Ginny, and Harry knew that he needed to remember that.  He would just have to find new things that he could enjoy doing with Neville.

 

“We can stay up,” Neville said after a long silence.  “I just don’t want to stay up this high, if that’s okay with you.”

 

Harry couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on his face.  “That’s fine,” he said immediately.  He started to descend, making sure to keep it slow and lazy.  Yes, he could have gone into a dive, but he had the feeling that it would make Neville more nervous than not.  

 

Neville seemed infinitely more comfortable at the lower height, and his grip on his broom relaxed.  Harry coaxed him into flying a few of the basic first year drills with him, hoping to loosen him up a little on his broom.  It worked, and soon they were flying in lazy figure eights, and Neville was laughing as Harry related a ridiculous story from one of Ginny’s Quidditch matches, when the Snitch had lodged itself in Ginny’s hair during a game, resulting in both Seekers chasing her around the field.

 

Harry didn’t even notice the children that had joined them in the air until a Quaffle flew in between him and Neville, resulting in shrieking laughter from the third year who’d thrown it.  The second year who’d caught it laughed as well, and both laughed even harder at Harry’s startled expression.

 

“Professor Potter, we’ve been up here with you for, like, twenty minutes,” the third year said with a slightly exasperated laugh.  “Didn’t you notice us?”

 

Harry just shook his head, a bit sheepishly.  “Sorry,” he said honestly.

 

He ignored Neville’s cheerful, “Told you so,” and instead focused on the students who’d joined them.  There were at least five of them who weren’t in any of his classes anymore, flying lazily above them in the same figure eights he’d been doing with Neville.

 

“You guys want something, or are you just having fun flying around?”

 

“Sir, is it true that you can do a Wronski Feint?” one of the fourth years, a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, asked.  “My cousin was saying that you showed her class one, and I didn’t believe her.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Oh, you didn’t, did you?” he asked.  He shifted on his broom, leaning forward ever so slightly.

 

Neville let out a small snort.  “Now you’ve done it,” he told the boy.  He shifted on his broom as well, settling in like he wasn’t planning to move for a while.

 

That was fine.  Harry fully intended to show off his skills on a broom, especially since he hadn’t really had much time for flying for the sake of flying lately.  He entered into a steep climb, calling after himself, “Clear off to the sides of the pitch, would you all?”  He looked down to make sure that he was being obeyed, not that he couldn’t dodge the obstacles that students would make.  It just wasn’t a good idea to dodge them at the speeds he’d be travelling at, because there was a chance he’d startle one of them off their brooms, and that could be a bit of a mess.

 

Minerva probably would have to fire him if he accidentally killed a student.

 

Then, once the pitch was more clear than not, the students and Neville forming a ring of fairly large size around the rim of the pitch, Harry tilted his broom into a dive.  He could feel the wind whipping at his hair, at his robes, at the exhilarated grin that he couldn’t quite keep off of his face.  It was perfect, fantastic, amazing, and he pulled himself out of the dive in just enough time for the toes of his boots to brush against the blades of grass on the ground, creating a small ripple of motion.

 

He could hear the students above him letting out impressed shouts, and didn’t bother to wipe the grin off of his face as he returned to them.  “Well?” he asked the Hufflepuff who’d asked the question.  “How did I do?”

 

“Can you teach us, Professor?” he asked, a bit breathless, his eyes wide.

 

And now Harry felt like an idiot, because he probably should have anticipated that question.  “I…”  He stopped and looked at Neville, a bit helplessly.

 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Neville said immediately.

 

At the chorus of groans from the assembled students, Harry just shook his head.  “No, really, your parents might get mad at me if you turn yourselves into pancakes on the ground.  And then I’d be out of a job, and you guys don’t want that, do you?”

 

The responses that greeted that statement were immediate, and were fervently negative, but then one of the students started throwing a Quaffle once more, distracting several of the others.  By the time Harry stopped flying with Neville for the day, the students had all but forgotten their idea to get Harry to teach them the Feint, and instead were busy throwing the Quaffles at each other rather than to each other.

 

As they walked away from the pitch, brooms in hand, Neville stepped closer to Harry so that he bumped him as they walked.  “You’re welcome,” he said, grinning.

 

Harry stopped, grabbed Neville by the wrist and spun him around, then tugged him into a quick kiss.  “Thanks,” he said, and pulled back, grinning.  And then promptly blushed at the whistles that came from the students above them.  “Should’ve seen that coming, too,” he said, his eyes closed in embarrassment.

 

“You really should have,” Neville agreed, still grinning.

 

They walked back to the castle hand in hand.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Dinner time came quickly, and Harry didn’t know that he was ready for it.  But Neville was, and had the house elves deliver a nice meal to the small table in the little kitchenette that graced Harry’s rooms.  He kept Harry close when Harry knew that he would otherwise be panicking, and told him that everything was going to be fine.

 

“She wouldn’t have come to yell at you again,” Neville said quietly, calmly.  Harry didn’t know how he could be so calm.  Hermione was coming.

 

In retrospect, Harry thought he might have been glad that Hermione hadn’t warned him that she was coming over the past two times.  He hated being this nervous, this worried.  At least those other two times, he hadn’t been expecting it so he hadn’t had enough time to work himself up the way he was now.

 

“You don’t know that she’s not coming to yell at me,” Harry said quietly.  But he didn’t even really believe what he’d said, either.  He forced himself to take a deep breath, to try to relax.  Hermione had been one of his two best friends for so very long, there was no way that she’d be coming if she were just going to yell.  He knew that.

 

“Harry,” Neville said.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Harry could practically feel the exasperation in his voice.  “Come sit with me,” Neville suggested finally, and opened an arm for Harry.

 

Harry took a step towards him, then paused.  “But what if-”

 

“Harry!”  Neville’s eyebrows went up and he closed his book.  “Come sit with me,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.  It was a command.

 

Harry sighed and gave in, curling into Neville with a small smile that he couldn’t quite suppress.  Yes, he was nervous about Hermione coming over, but it was nice to have Neville to cuddle with like this.  Ginny had never been… outside of sex, anyway, she’d never been all that touchy.  To know that Neville didn’t mind this, that he enjoyed it... 

 

Harry sagged against Neville, cuddling closer and tucking his head under Neville’s chin.  Neville idly toyed with his hair, petting him like Hermione might have once pet Crookshanks.  “Better?” Neville asked after several silent moments passed.

 

Harry nodded.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he muttered.  “I know that Hermione won’t be mad at me.”

 

“You’re nervous because she’s ambushed you twice in a row now,” Neville pointed out.  “It only makes sense that you’d be a bit wary, given the way that she’s startled you, and last time she brought Ron and Ginny along for the ride.”

 

“Yeah, but she won’t do that this time,” Harry said.  He wanted to press closer to Neville, who was a never ending source of comfort, but he didn’t think it was physically possible.

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s give you plenty of reasons to be nervous,” Neville said.  He continued to stroke Harry’s hair, and Harry found himself melting into the touches.

 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, although he genuinely wasn’t sure what he was going to say, when his portrait guardian cleared his throat.  “Ms. Granger-Weasley is outside,” his portrait announced.

 

Harry sat up.  “Let her in,” he said, and raked a hand through his hair, which Neville had thoroughly messed up.  Not that it was hard to do, and not that it looked any more presentable when Harry had finished fiddling with it.

 

Hermione entered with a small smile on her face that faded the moment she spotted Harry.  She studied him, her now-neutral expression fading into a frown.  She crossed the room immediately and grabbed Harry by his hands.  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, genuinely.  “I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

 

Harry tried out a smile, but figured that it looked fairly awkward because Hermione sort of grimaced in response.  “It’s okay,” he said, but he couldn’t quite manage anything after that.  It wasn’t okay, and he was still pretty upset with her, actually.  First for ignoring him, then for the things she’d said when she’d finally found time to visit him.  But he really, truly did want things to be okay.  They just… weren’t yet.

 

Hermione just shook her head.  “It’s not,” she said.  Her smile returned, a bit smaller than it had been.  “We’re going to get there, though.”  She drew back and smoothed her hands over her dress.  “Neville,” she added, almost as an afterthought, and nodded in his general direction.

 

Neville had stood up, apparently, and now crossed the room to stand behind Harry, a solid wall of warmth at his back.  “Hermione,” he answered, sounding almost cordial.  “It’s good to see you again.  Hopefully this conversation will go better than the last.”

 

Color appeared in Hermione’s cheeks.  “Hopefully,” she said, the words a bit strangled.  She cleared her throat, and the room fell into awkward silence.

 

“Dinner?” Harry suggested, desperate to break the sudden tension in the room.

 

“Dinner sounds great,” Hermione said quickly.

 

They settled at the table, and the awkward air faded, though it didn’t quite disperse.  Harry focused on his plate, even though he wasn’t all that hungry.  Tension never helped his already small appetite, and Harry only made himself take a few bites because he knew that Neville would worry if he didn’t.  And he already made Neville worry about so many things, he didn’t want to add another thing to the list.

 

It was over dessert that Hermione said quietly, “I’ve been doing some research into the Muggle world, and the way that they classify sexuality.”

 

Harry blanched and was suddenly very glad that he hadn’t eaten much of anything.  “Yeah?” he asked, his voice a bit choked.  He should have known that she’d be curious, because that was Hermione.  She always felt better when she could do some research.

 

“I’ve found some interesting things,” she said.  She set her fork down and took a sip of her water.  “It turns out that there are… a number of people out there, who share in your affliction.”

 

“It’s not an affliction,” Neville said, voice sharp enough to cut stone.  “There’s nothing wrong with us.  It’s just who we are, Hermione.”

 

Hermione blushed again and looked down at her plate.  “I know that!”  She bit her lip, then shrugged and said, “I spoke wrongly, and I’m sorry for that.  I’m still learning, but I would hope that you would be kind while I’m learning the appropriate vocabulary.”

 

Harry reached for Neville’s hand, and relaxed when Neville took it without hesitating.  “Neville and I understand that,” he said quickly, before Neville could say anything else.  “And I… I still don’t know that I believe that there isn’t something wrong with me, so it would really be helpful if you didn’t imply…”  He trailed off, not entirely sure where he was going with that line of thought.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Neville said immediately.  He shifted his chair closer to Harry’s, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor.  “Right, Hermione?”  There was something in his tone that implied that Hermione had better agree with him.

 

“That’s right,” she said quickly.  “Harry, there’s nothing wrong with either you or Neville.  It’s just… sexuality is a spectrum, and you and Neville just… aren’t…”  She swallowed.  “You know.  Interested in sex as much as other people are.  The Internet tells me that the word is asexual.”

 

“That’s… good to know,” Harry said slowly.  It was, too.  It was nice to know that there were enough people out there, like him and like Neville, that they had a word and everything.  He didn’t know what, if anything, he wanted to do with that knowledge, but it was nice to know all the same.

 

“Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you,” Hermione said.  “And I wanted to… spend time with you, I guess, though that didn’t go quite as well as I’d hoped.”  

 

“You can’t expect-” Neville started.

 

Hermione cut him off with a shake of her head.  “I know that I can’t,” she interrupted, impatient.  “But I just… well, you can’t blame a girl for hoping, can you?”  When she smiled, the expression was more sad than anything else.  “I’m sorry that Ron and I weren’t there for you when you needed us, Harry.”

 

Harry just shrugged.  He wanted to tell her that it was okay, but… well, it wasn’t.

 

“Harry and I have morning classes to teach tomorrow,” Neville said into the awkward silence that fell.

 

Hermione immediately stood and smoothed down her robes once more.  “Of course,” she said quickly.  “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to interfere with Harry’s teaching, or your own, Neville.  Please, if there’s anything the two of you need…”  She swallowed again and her smile went a bit sideways.  “Let me know?”

 

“We will,” Harry said quickly.  “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

 

“I’m really glad that you two are happy together,” she said quickly, and before Harry could respond, she’d slipped out the door.

 

Harry sagged as soon as the door closed behind her.  He turned to Neville, and knew that his eyes were a bit wide.  “Why was that so hard?” he asked plaintively.

 

“Because she hurt you,” Neville said immediately.  “And you’re not quite willing to forgive her yet, though I think you will be one day.”  Neville reached out and looped an arm around Harry’s neck, hauling him in for a quick hug.

 

“You think so?” Harry asked.

 

“I know so.”  Neville pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then pulled back.  “I’m pretty sure that you would have forgiven Voldemort himself if he’d given you enough time to do so, and changed enough.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “If you say so,” he muttered, and stood and stretched.  He took care of the clean-up, which really only involved summoning a house elf to take away the leftovers, then curled up in his armchair with a book.

 

Neville joined him, settling on the floor at his feet, and the rest of the evening passed peacefully.


	6. Chapter Six

 

The month felt like it sped by with the speed of a Snitch.  Harry found himself occupied with teaching, with refereeing Quidditch games, with Neville and the relationship that was growing between them.  

 

He’d found that one of his favorite things to do with Neville was to curl up on the couch, cuddled up against him, each one of them with a different book, absorbed in the reading.  He liked holding hands with Neville in the morning as they walked to breakfast, and again in the evening when they left the Great Hall after dinner.  He liked it when Neville came to get him after he’d finished teaching for the day, and liked going to get Neville on days when Neville’s classes ran later.  He didn’t even mind the way the students giggled when the two of them were spotted together.

 

He liked just being with Neville, and was so glad that Neville seemed to enjoy the same.  His life had gotten quiet since coming to Hogwarts, and Harry was finding that he didn’t want it to be any other way.

 

It was on one such quiet day that Harry headed to the Great Hall for dinner.  Classes were over, but Neville unfortunately had some night-blooming plants to look after and wouldn’t be able to join him in his rooms until later that evening, so Harry would be on his own for dinner.  He filled his plate and made quiet conversation with Teddy, but as the night wore on, he grew quieter.  His godson was kind enough not to make him keep talking, and instead struck up a conversation with one of the other professors.

 

The problem was that Harry was starting to get a bit anxious, because the passing of time was bringing another important day closer, and he wasn’t sure what would happen once they reached that day.  Albus’ birthday was approaching, and Harry didn’t know if he was going to be given a chance to go.  His middle child had promised to work on James and Lily, but Harry hadn’t heard anything from him since the promise had been given.  There was every chance that Albus had failed in convincing James and Lily to forgive him, not that he needed forgiveness, and had decided to give in and not involve Harry in any family events.

 

Harry knew that he would be hurt if that were the case, but he also knew that it was Albus’ birthday, and if that was what his son wanted, he wouldn’t ruin his day.  He wouldn’t do that to one of his children.  He loved them all so much, and maybe that was why it hurt so much that none of them…

 

He cut the thought off ruthlessly.  They all still loved him, he knew that.  They were just angry right then, and they would eventually come around.  Harry knew that.  Besides, he had Teddy, and he was pretty sure that he had Albus even if he wasn’t willing to risk upsetting the rest of the family by having Harry at the party that would surely be happening.

 

Harry sighed and finished eating what was left on his plate, and then stared down at it with a small grimace.  He wasn’t hungry anymore, even though the food had been delicious.  He pushed the plate away and politely excused himself from the table, standing and leaving the hall before anyone could react.  Teddy didn’t follow him, thankfully.

 

Harry was certain that he wasn’t actually in the mood for company.

 

He’d made it mostly to his rooms when he realized that someone was following him, though it wasn’t Teddy and it wasn’t Neville.  He slowed his pace deliberately, and whoever was walking close behind him also slowed down.  Even though he was no longer the Head Auror, Harry found his hand inching towards his wand anyway.  Whoever was behind him would be in for an unpleasant surprise if they tried to startle him.

 

“Well, it’s good to know that in spite of your changed job you haven’t lost your paranoia,” Albus said from behind him, and Harry sagged in relaxation.

 

He turned and greeted his son with a smile.  “Hey,” he said.  He took a step towards Albus, then paused.  What if his son didn’t want a hug from him?  What if he thought he didn’t need one anymore?

 

Albus just smiled back and stepped forward as well, pulling Harry into a quick hug.  “It’s good to see you, Dad,” he said cheerfully.  “I’m sorry that I haven’t stopped by before tonight, but things have been busy.  I’ve been working on my Runemastery, and I think I’m just about ready to go into an apprenticeship.”

 

Harry beamed at Albus.  “I’m so pleased to hear that,” he said.  He was, too.  He was so happy that his children had found careers that they genuinely loved, that they could afford to focus on that rather than on a war, or on blood politics, or on any number of other things.

 

“Thanks,” Albus said.  He squeezed Harry once more, then pulled back.  “I wanted to swing by personally to make sure that you knew that I expect you to come to my birthday party this weekend,” he added.

 

Harry stilled.  He swallowed around the sudden lump that formed in his throat.  “Yeah?” he asked, a bit hoarsely.  “Are you sure that everyone wants me there?”

 

Albus grimaced.  “I haven’t had any luck with my siblings, if that’s what you’re asking,” he confessed, a bit reluctantly.  “So I can’t say that everyone wants you there, and I’m very sorry to have to tell you that.  But I want you there, and it’s my birthday party.  You wouldn’t want to disappoint the birthday boy, would you?”

 

Harry swallowed again and blinked a few times to clear the tears from his eyes.  It hurt that his other two children still hadn’t come around, of course it did, but it meant the world to him that Albus was willing to have him there in spite of that.  “No, of course not,” he said quickly.  “I’d love to come.”  He tried out a smile, and was relieved when it didn’t come out too shakily.

 

“Good,” Albus said, his face brightening with another smile.  Then it fell and he looked down.  He said, a bit hesitantly, “It’s being held…”  He paused, and Harry realized that he was wrestling with something, that he didn’t feel comfortable telling Harry something.  “It’s being held at Malfoy Manor.  Scorp’s parents are throwing us the party.  Are you okay with that?”

 

Harry… did not have the best memories of Malfoy Manor, that was very true.  But he would put up with those bad memories for the chance to be at Albus’ party.  “I’m absolutely okay with that,” he said quickly.  He made sure that his smile didn’t waver when his son looked up with him.  “Albus, I’d go to your party if it were held in Azkaban.”

 

“Well, that would put a bit of a damper on proceedings, wouldn’t it?”  Albus laughed a little.  “Oh, also, I want you to bring Neville if he’s willing and able to attend.”

 

Harry’s smile widened almost painfully.  “I’ll ask him,” he said.  “I think he’ll be happy to come along.”  Unless Neville was going to be busy that day, of course.  Then he might not be able to come, but Neville hadn’t mentioned having plans this Saturday.  “The party is on Saturday, right?”

 

“Yeah, at two o’clock in the afternoon.  And then, after the party, Scorp and I were kind of hoping that we could go out to dinner with you and Neville?”  Albus shifted a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

 

Harry reached for his son and pulled him into another hug.  “That should be fine, assuming Neville’s free to go to the party at all,” he said quietly into his son’s hair.  “Albus, thank you so much.”

 

Albus squeezed him back, holding tightly for what felt like forever, then he pulled away.  “You don’t have to thank me,” he said.  “You shouldn’t have to be excluded from family events just because everyone else is being stupid.”

 

The words hurt, like being stabbed in the gut.  “I don’t want to cause trouble for everyone,” he said slowly.  “If it’s going to cause friction, having me there—”

 

Albus immediately shook his head, cutting Harry off.  “I like a little friction,” he said.  “And if they’re going to be stupid about it, then they’re the ones I’ll ask to leave.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Albus asking James to leave the party.  Or Lily, for that matter.  He wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure that Albus could handle either one of them with little trouble.  “If you’re sure,” he said.

 

“I am.”  Then Albus grimaced as the soft chiming of an alert filled the air.  He cast a quick  _ tempus _ , then scowled at the time it revealed.  “And now I’m running late for dinner with Scorpius, so I’ve got to go.  Sorry I can’t stay longer.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Harry said quickly.  “Thanks for dropping by.  I’ll see you Saturday at two at Malfoy Manor.”

 

Albus nodded, then backed up.  “Yeah.  I’m looking forward to it.”  Then the chimes sounded again, a bit louder, and Albus groaned.  “I gotta go!”

 

“Go on, don’t be late,” Harry called after his son as he dashed away.

 

He finished his trip back to his room with a lighter heart than he’d began it with, and settled on the couch with a grin after slipping off his robe and shoes.  He curled up with a book, and when Neville got home, he curled up with the other teacher.

 

“Albus stopped by today,” he said.  “He wanted to invite us to his birthday party this Saturday, and to dinner afterwards with him and Scorpius.”

 

“Both of us?” Neville asked, surprised.  “I knew he approved of our relationship, but I didn’t know he approved that much.”

 

“Well, he does,” Harry said, and snuggled closer.  “You want to come?”

 

“Well, my day might be full,” Neville started, teasingly.  Then he laughed when Harry swatted at him.  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said through his laughter.  “Of course I want to come.”

 

Harry smiled.  “I’m glad.”  He was.  He didn’t think that he could face his children alone, much less the extended Weasley family.  The thought was enough to make him shiver, and Neville immediately held him closer, like he knew what Harry was thinking.  He might, he was pretty smart about things like that.

 

“I won’t leave you alone while we’re there,” Neville promised.  He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.

 

“Thanks,” Harry said.  He couldn’t imagine facing everyone by himself, without Neville.  His… boyfriend was very good at defusing tense situations, and was equally good at calming Harry down.

 

Surely with him there, nothing could go wrong.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

It would seem that the party was actually destined to go wrong from the start.  Harry found that the Manor itself was more terror inducing than he’d thought it would be, and the sight of it, even in the daylight, brought up all sorts of unpleasant memories of being on the run during the war, and being caught by Voldemort.  He had to close his eyes and stand outside with Neville for long moments while he tried to get control of himself.

  
Teddy, who’d come with them, had gone ahead to greet everyone, and so when Harry had finally managed to make his way to the massive back yard, which was where the party was being held since it was a lovely spring day, everyone already knew that he was coming.

 

And it really was everyone there, including the entire Weasley clan.  That was… uncomfortable, especially when Molly ignored Harry’s cordial greeting.  She just turned away from him, and it seemed that the majority of the clan, including most of his children, was intending to follow her example.

 

That was fine.  Harry had prepared for some friction.  He went to Albus and greeted his son with a hug, that was quickly and eagerly returned.  Scorpius greeted him with a handshake, and a rather stiff, “Sir.”  It looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself, so Harry didn’t tease him.

 

He took Scorpius’ hand.  “Good to see you again, Scorpius,” he said cheerfully enough.

 

He drifted away from his son after Neville greeted them both, and headed to the table to get a plate of finger foods.  It was very nice food, nicer than what Molly might have served if she’d been hosting, but that didn’t mean that Harry preferred it.  In a way, the fancier food was just another sign of things that had changed.  Had Molly refused to host the party because she’d known that Albus was inviting Harry?

 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about, stop it,” Neville said quietly, and nudged him with his shoulder.  “You’re getting too tense, and there’s no need for that.  It’s a party, after all.”

 

Harry laughed a little and forced himself to relax.  “A party where I’m surrounded by sharks,” he muttered.  He kept his eyes on Albus, and on Scorpius, though, rather than focusing on said sharks.

 

“You’re Harry Potter,” Neville said teasingly.  “I’m pretty sure that you can fight off sharks if you have to.”

 

Harry laughed again.  “Probably,” he said cheerfully.  

 

Scorpius was talking to other people, he noticed as he watched the two of them, but it was clear that the Malfoy heir’s focus was entirely on Albus.  He never went far from his side, and always re-entered whatever conversation Albus was in the middle of whenever Albus started to get tense.  It happened most often with members of the Weasley clan, Harry noticed, and with his siblings.  He supposed that Albus was taking a lot of grief because he’d insisted on having Harry there, and he regretted that for his middle child.  Albus didn’t deserve that.

 

“They’re good together.”  The quiet voice startled him, and Harry found that he was standing next to Malfoy now, Neville still at his other side.

 

“They are,” he acknowledged.  He might never like Draco Malfoy, but he could acknowledge that their sons were likely very much in love, and would probably wind up getting married at some point.  At least, he could acknowledge that given the way that they were behaving right at that moment.

 

“Are you going to be okay with it if my son should choose to propose to yours?” Malfoy asked bluntly.  “I know that you and I don’t have the best of histories, and I want to make sure you’re not going to do anything to hurt either one of them if they choose to take that step.”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Harry said, a bit indignant.  “It would be awfully hypocritical of me to have a problem with Albus and Scorpius given the relationship I’m in with Neville, wouldn’t it?”  He scowled at Malfoy.

 

Malfoy’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he shifted so that he could see Neville as well.  “I thought he was just here for moral support,” he muttered, sounding a bit flummoxed.  “I didn’t think the two of you were actually together.”

 

Unfortunately, Malfoy spoke just a bit too loudly, just as Molly was walking by to get something from the food table.  She froze in place, then turned towards them with her eyes blazing.  “I’m sorry, Draco dear, but what did you just say?”

 

Malfoy stilled.  “Nothing,” he said quickly.  He shot Harry an apologetic look and slunk away from the conversation.

 

Harry couldn’t blame him.  If he weren’t directly involved in the conversation that was about to happen, he wouldn’t stick around for it either.  He swallowed and took a step back, then another, until he was pressed up against Neville’s solid frame.  “Molly,” he started.

 

She took a single step in his direction.  “Harry, did I hear Draco say what I thought I did?  Are you really together with… with Neville?”  The venom in her voice, directed at Neville, felt out of place.  Why was she angry with Neville?  He wasn’t the one who’d left her daughter, after all.

 

Harry swallowed and stood up a bit straighter even as Neville’s arms crept around his waist, anchoring him.  “I am,” he said, and was pleased that his voice barely shook.  “I’ve already discussed it with the children, and I was going to let Ginny know when we spoke next.”

 

He sent his ex-wife an apologetic smile, and Ginny just shook her head.  “We’ve been over this, Mum.  Our divorce was a mutual decision, and Harry is free to move on with whoever he wants, whenever he wants.”

 

“Well, he moved on awfully quickly for someone who was supposedly just as upset as you were at the divorce,” she snapped.  Then she rounded on Albus.  “Albus, I don’t understand why you would invite him, of all people, to your party when he’s done nothing but cause our family trouble since the divorce!”

 

Albus’ jaw jutted out and his eyes narrowed.  “I invited him because he’s my father, and I love him, and I wanted him to be here at the party,” he said sharply.  “I don’t need to justify it to anyone.  It’s my party, and I wanted him here, and that’s all that matters.”

 

“And what about the rest of your family?” Molly asked, her voice going a bit shrill.  “You know that Harry broke your mum’s heart, broke all of our hearts with this divorce, and now he has the nerve to show up with a boyfriend when your mum hasn’t even started dating yet?”

 

“Molly, you just heard Ginny say that the divorce was a mutual decision,” Hermione said, and judging by the huff in her voice, she was a bit exasperated with the conversation.  “They were both… content… with the divorce.  Neither one’s heart was broken.”

 

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but closed it with a snap when Albus stepped closer to her, so that he was practically in her face.  “Albus, sweetheart, I—”   
  
“I think you should leave,” Albus said, a bit coldly.  “My father is here because I invited him, and his boyfriend is here for the same reason.  If you can’t handle that, then I think you should go.”

 

Molly let out a huff, then turned on one heel sharply and stalked in the direction of the front of the house without saying another word.  Lily followed her, not even looking back at her siblings or anyone else at the party.

 

Ginny hesitated, then crossed the yard to Albus and gave him a quick hug.  “I think, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to go try and talk some sense into my mother,” she said to him, loud enough that everyone could hear her.  “It’s time that she understand that I’m not mad at Harry, and that I’m happy that he’s moved on with someone who seems to be pretty perfect for him.”  She looked up at Harry and smiled as she said it, and Harry felt his cheeks flaming even as he let himself relax back against Neville once more.

 

“Go ahead,” Albus said with a small nod and a smile.  “Thanks for coming.  We’ll go to dinner sometime this week?”

 

Ginny kissed him on the cheek, then stepped back.  “Sounds good, Albus.”  She smiled warmly at him, then at Harry once more, then headed after her mother and her daughter.

 

Harry sighed.  “Think that was the worst of it?” he asked Neville as conversation gradually resumed around them.

 

“Hopefully,” Neville said.  “Because if that was it, then I think you can handle anything else.”

 

Harry hoped so.  It certainly couldn’t go any worse, after all.  Not without anybody resorting to armed combat, and Harry didn’t think that anyone left at the party felt that passionately one way or another about what had happened between himself and Ginny.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The rest of the party did go fairly well, and by the end of it, Harry almost felt ready to go out to dinner with his son and his son’s boyfriend, for all that he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of Albus dating a Malfoy.  He still kept a smile on his face, though, and appreciated the fact that either Albus or Scorpius had reserved a small private dining area for them in a rather upscale wizarding restaurant that Harry had never had the occasion to go to.

 

Or rather, he had in fact had several opportunities to go, but had declined all of them to Ginny’s dismay.  Harry never would like being in the public eye, no matter how much Ginny had pouted about it.

 

But the private dining area, that was nice.  He settled into a chair and relaxed, especially when Neville took his hand under the table.  Conversation was fairly stilted at first as Harry perused the menu, but eventually it started to flow more easily.  Harry allowed himself one glass of wine, just enough to help him relax ever so slightly without even the possibility of making him drunk.

 

Once their orders for food were placed and the first course had been brought to them, Albus nudged Harry under the table with his foot.  “Are you and Neville holding hands under the table?” his son asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

Harry blushed and took another bite of salad with his left hand, defiantly.  “And if we are?” he asked.

 

Albus just laughed.  “You can relax, you know.  This isn’t intended to be some kind of ambush or something.  It’s just a nice dinner with my father and his boyfriend and my boyfriend, since we haven’t really seen each other in what feels like forever.”

 

Harry relaxed a bit more.  “We’ve both been pretty busy,” he said.  “It’s hard, now that I’m living on a school campus, even if Minerva does let her alumni return for visits whenever they want to.”

 

“We could make more time,” Neville pointed out.  “But you’d probably have to come to the school.  Maybe you could join us for dinner there during the week?”

 

Albus just shook his head.  “That won’t work,” he said, a bit sadly.  “Now that I’m going to be starting my apprenticeship, my nights are going to be filled with studying.”

 

“He’s making me learn how to cook,” Scorpius said with a small grimace.  “I offered to get us a house elf, but he turned me down and said that his Mum would have a fit.”

 

“And Hermione would also murder you,” Harry said with a small smile.  “She hates the way that house elves are treated in England.”

 

The conversation continued, going from house elf rights in England to the way house elves were treated in other countries.  Harry found himself appalled to learn that they were actually treated fairly well in England, rather than the way they were treated in some foreign places.  From there, the conversation shifted from house elf rights entirely and into international relations, a subject that Harry was woefully unprepared to participate in.

 

But it was fascinating to watch Neville and Scorpius discuss the matter, because apparently his boyfriend did keep up with those sorts of things, and of course Scorpius would, given that he was entering into the world of politics.  Albus seemed content to listen as well, and the conversation continued that way until the final course of dessert was being served.

 

Then Scorpius took a large gulp of what was left of his wine and turned to Harry, cutting off the conversation.  “Sir, I need to ask you a question,” he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

 

Albus flushed and looked down as well, and Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “Oh?” he asked, and wondered if they were about to get to the real purpose of the dinner.  Because as much as he loved all of his children, his middle child was a Slytherin and they tended not to do anything without some kind of ulterior motive.

 

“Sir… Mr. Potter.”  Scorpius swallowed.  “Would it be okay with you if I…  that is to say, do you think that you would mind if…”  He stopped again and looked down.

 

“Dad, Scorpius and I are thinking about getting married,” Albus said bluntly.

 

Harry let out a small snort of laughter.  “You couldn’t let him say that for himself?” he asked.  “He’d worked himself up for it so nicely, too!”

 

Scorpius’ cheeks turned an impossibly brighter shade of pink, and Harry immediately regretted his teasing tone.  “I’m sorry, that wasn’t kind,” he said quickly.  “Of course it would be okay if the two of you got married.”

 

Scorpius let out a small noise not unlike the whistle of a balloon which had just had a hole pricked in it and gradually deflated so that his head came to rest on the table.  “Oh,” he breathed, relief clear in his voice.  “You really don’t mind?  I know that my family and yours doesn’t have the best history…”

 

“That’s true,” Harry acknowledged.  “But I have no problem with you, and your father has proven himself to be… reformed, from our younger years.  Even if he hadn’t, I can acknowledge that you aren’t your father, and I’m so happy that you and Albus are happy with each other.”  He offered both of them a warm smile, and was pleased to see it returned.  “And I’m very happy that the two of you felt comfortable telling me your plans.”

 

Albus shifted in his seat.  “We don’t have anything definite in mind yet,” he said, and then paused when the waiter brought the check, which Harry picked up before either Scorpius or Albus could, though Scorpius reached for it at the same time that Harry did.  “It’s just something we’re thinking about.”

 

“Well, let me know when the wedding is when you two are ready to go through with it,” Harry said, his smile soft and genuine.

 

Neville squeezed his hand under the table, and Harry didn’t even have to think about it to know that his boyfriend approved of his words.  He wondered what Ginny thought about it, but brushed the thoughts aside.  She’d always been more accepting of Scorpius’ friendship with Albus than Harry had, so of course she’d be okay with this when they told her.  In fact, they’d probably told her first.

 

Harry didn’t blame them.  He’d given Albus some grief over his friendship with the other Slytherin when his son had first been in Hogwarts, and he’d regret that probably for the rest of his life.  It wasn’t a mistake he ever planned to make again.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Later that night, after they’d made it back to Hogwarts and were curled up in bed, Neville said quietly to Harry, “I’m so proud of the way you handled everything today.”

 

Harry let out a sleepy noise of inquiry.  “Even when I teased Albus about not letting Scorpius get his question out?”

 

“Even then,” Neville confirmed.  He pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead.  “I remember how upset you were that they were friends in the first place, and I’m so proud of you for being able to move past that in these past few years.”

 

“Even if I hated Draco still, which I don’t, Scorpius isn’t his father,” Harry said sleepily.  He let his eyes fall closed.  “I know what it’s like to be hated for something that isn’t your fault, and I decided a few years back that I wouldn’t do that to one of Albus’ friends the way that Snape did it to me.”

 

Neville’s voice was warm with affection when he said, “Like I said.  I’m so very proud of you.”

 

The words followed Harry down into his sleep, giving him the best of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I’ve run out of updates for this story, and because I want to focus on original content during Camp NaNoWriMo, I’m afraid that this story will be on hiatus for the month of April.  I’m not marking it officially as on hiatus, but I wanted to let everyone know.  Please don’t worry that the story will be abandoned, it won’t be as I have a full outline and know exactly where I’m going with the story.  If I finish my original work before the end of April, I’ll start working on this story again.  Prized and Feathers and Fireballs will continue updating throughout the month because I have those chapters pre-written.


	7. Chapter 7

 

It had only been a few weeks since Albus’ birthday and, in spite of the fact that neither of his other children were talking to him and Molly was still refusing to acknowledge that she’d been in the wrong with her reaction to Harry’s new relationship, Harry was happier than he’d been in… well, in what felt like forever.

 

He and Neville just seemed to fit together, and as the spring was drawing closer, along with the end of the school year, Harry found himself wondering what they would do during the summer.  Would they live together?  Would Neville want to take some time apart to do other things?  He didn’t know, and the thought was… discomforting, but not as worrying as Harry thought it maybe should have been.

 

He thought that he loved Neville, and he knew that Neville, at the very least, liked him very much.  

 

“And you were so relaxed a few minutes ago,” Neville murmured, his words spoken in a tone of lament from underneath of Harry.  “What happened to get you so tense all of a sudden?”

 

They were cuddled up together on the couch, Neville idly stroking his fingers along Harry’s spine with one hand while holding a book with another.  Harry had been listening to the wireless, and drifting in and out of a nap.

 

“Thinking about summer,” Harry said.  He tried to make himself relax again, to let his muscles loosen and return to their practically-liquid state.  It worked, mostly.  He shifted so that he could look up at Neville without craning his neck and offered him a sleepy smile.

 

Neville returned it, then pressed his lips to Harry’s in a quick, gentle kiss.  “What about it?”

 

“What happens then?”  Harry wasn’t used to having to ask questions like that.  He was used to being married, to the assumption that days would be spent together, or at least, the majority of them would.

 

“We could always alternate houses, if you’d like to spend the entire time with me,” Neville mused.  “Maybe we could go on vacation to France or Italy, see some of the sights there.”  Then he smiled, the expression a little sly, a little teasing.  “I could finally introduce you to my grandmother as the person that I’m dating.”

 

Harry winced.  “No,” he begged, not even remotely kidding.  Augusta Longbottom was a terrifying woman, more terrifying than Molly by far.  And things with Molly had just gone so very badly during their last interaction.  What if Augusta hated him as much as Molly now did?

 

“Okay, okay,” Neville said quickly, soothingly.  He set his book down on the coffee table and used his now free hand to stroke Harry’s hair.  “It’s okay.  We won’t do that.”  He still sounded amused, though.

 

“What if she hated me?” Harry asked.

 

“Gran thinks you hung the moon,” Neville said immediately.  “If anything, she’ll be frustrated that you’re wasting your time on someone like me.”

 

Harry’s lip curled up into a small snarl.  “Let her say something like that,” he muttered.  He shifted upwards so that he could comfortably kiss Neville, then settled back down with his head on Neville’s shoulder.  “I’d have a thing or two to say to her about that.”

 

Neville’s laugh was quietly affectionate.  “I bet you would,” he murmured.  Harry felt his lips press against his forehead.  “But it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to go and visit with her any time soon, are we?”

 

“Not that I was planning,” Harry said easily.  “But…”  He swallowed.  “Not that I’m looking forward to it, but if meeting her is something you’d really like me to do over the summer, we can talk about it.”

 

“We’re nowhere near the summer,” Neville answered.  “We’ll talk about it later, perhaps when we get closer than we are now.  How does that sound?”

 

Harry let his eyes drift closed.  “Sounds good,” he said.  A song that he liked came on the radio, and he smiled and hummed along, and Neville picked up his book once more.

 

The rest of the evening passed in a lazy, contented silence.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry’s week went well, with no incidents between the students that he had to document, not even the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors.  Why Minerva kept putting the two groups together even after all these years baffled Harry, and normally there was some kind of trouble, but there was none this particular week.  By the time the week ended, Harry nonetheless was more than ready for a break.

 

He tried to get Neville to join him on a broom once more, but Neville was having none of it.  “C’mon,” Harry pleaded.  “I don’t want to go by myself.  Think about what the kids will say!”

 

“They might ask you if we’re having relationship problems,” Neville teased.  “Maybe they’ll even offer you advice.  You know, some of the girls are actually pretty relationship savvy.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “I don’t need relationship advice from Hogwarts students!” he protested.  “Please, Neville?”

 

Neville just shook his head again.  “I’m not going flying with you,” he said.  “But if you want, I’ll come out and watch you fly.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be boring for you?”  As much as Harry wanted to fly, as much as he wanted Neville to go with him, he didn’t want to force Neville into a situation where he was going to be bored for most of his day off.  That wasn’t fair to Neville at all.

 

“Not really,” Neville said.  He stood and stretched, then grabbed his book, a journal of herbology.  “I can read this just as well outside as I can in here.  And it’s a lovely day out there, so maybe we could do a picnic lunch?”

 

“We’re going to gross out some of the students,” Harry pointed out.  But he smiled and ducked his head, a light blush spreading over his cheeks.  “I’d like that, though.”

 

“Excellent,” Neville said.  He leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek, then took a step back.  “Why don’t you head out and get yourself into the air to burn off some of your very restless energy, and I’ll go see about a picnic lunch.  Maybe we could see if Teddy wants to join us?”

 

Harry beamed at Neville.  “That would be great!”

 

Neville’s returning smile was softer, more gentle.  “I’ll see if I can’t find him on my way outside.  Now go fly, you.”

 

Harry left their room… no, it was still his room, Neville still had his own room, with a spring in his step that couldn’t even be dampened by the fact that he and Neville technically didn’t live together yet.  It was easy to forget that they’d only been together for a few months, and, in the scheme of things, that really wasn’t that long.

 

Harry felt like it had been forever, and not in a bad way.  It wasn’t that he regretted his time with Ginny, but… but now that he was with Neville, he could see where things had gone so very wrong between himself and Ginny.  They’d never really been compatible.  Ginny was too adventurous, which sounded ridiculous for the Boy Who Lived to be saying, but Harry had never sought his fame, and he would have been perfectly happy to be a househusband for the rest of his life.  It had been Ginny’s urging that had seen him becoming an Auror, moving up the Ministry chain, and he really, when he thought about it, hadn’t been happy at all.

 

Harry brushed the thoughts aside as he entered the bright sunlight of the warm Saturday afternoon.  It was beautiful out, as Neville had said.  It was warm, but not too warm,and there was a lovely breeze blowing in that probably meant they’d be getting a storm of some kind before the end of the day, but for now… for now it was wonderful.

 

Harry headed for the pitch and found it, unsurprisingly, occupied by a fair number of students, half of whom perked up as soon as he hopped onto his broom.  The other half didn’t seem upset to see him out there with them, and Harry was okay with that.  He didn’t need all of his students to be absolutely ecstatic at the sight of him, after all.

 

It was enough that he could make a few of them happy, and that he could improve the flying of some of them.  He was finding, more and more, that he genuinely enjoyed teaching flying, and he absolutely loved refereeing the Quidditch matches.  It was so much better than teaching Defense, no matter how good he’d been at that.

 

He couldn’t have said how long he stayed up there with the students when he finally noticed Neville sitting a little bit away from the pitch, with a nice blanket set up, reading his book.  Truthfully, Harry wasn’t entirely sure that he would have noticed had Teddy not rocketed gleefully between him and the student he was assisting with a fear of diving.

 

“Lunch is here, Harry!” Teddy called as he shot between them, and then his godson’s cackles faded into the air above him as he continued higher and higher.

 

Harry sighed and, with a goodbye to the students in his impromptu class, he began his descent.  He knew that if he didn’t, Teddy was just going to barrel through them once more on his way back down.  Sure enough, Teddy dove past him, only to slow down once he realized that Harry was already on his way down to the ground.

 

“Having fun?” Teddy asked once they’d both touched down.

 

Harry just shook his head, laughing quietly.  “Of course,” he said cheerfully.  “How about you?  How are your classes doing?”

 

“Busy.”  Teddy’s grin was bright, practically incandescent.  “I’m loving it.  I think it’s the most fun I’ve had since I left Hogwarts as a student.  Minerva and I met yesterday after classes let out, and she said she’d be happy to keep me on as a professor if I’m interested.”

 

Harry stopped and turned to Teddy.  “That’s really great news,” he said warmly.  He gave his godson a hug, and didn’t let go when Teddy wriggled in his arms with an embarrassed protest.  “I’m your godfather.  It’s my prerogative to embarrass you in front of everyone, especially your students,” Harry said placidly.  “And especially when I’m proud of you.”

 

Teddy went still, and then he wrapped his arms around Harry in a quick hug.  He pulled back, and this time Harry let him.  The smile on his face was just a touch embarrassed.  “Thanks, Harry,” he said and ducked his head, a bit shyly.  “You know how much it means to me that you’re proud of me.”

 

“Of course I do,” Harry said.  He slung an arm around Teddy’s shoulder and headed in the general direction of Neville, the blanket, and lunch.

 

Neville was watching for them both with a grin on his face, wide and highly amused.  “You two are ridiculous,” he greeted them.  “Come, sit, eat food before it all gets cold.”

 

Harry sighed as he settled on the blanket next to Neville.  “Don’t house elves understand that picnic food should be able to get cold without spoiling?” he asked with a sigh.  The food that house elves made was always so very good, but also so elaborate some of the time, and picnics were the last thing that should be done with elaborate food.

 

“I don’t think they’ve mastered the art of cooking for picnics yet,” Teddy said cheerfully.  He waved the plate in his hand, ceramic and very breakable, as a demonstration.  “Maybe they just don’t know about paper plates, though.  Just think, Harry, you could revolutionize Hogwarts by introducing them to disposable china.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “Or I could not,” he muttered.  He took a plate of his own and put a small amount of roast chicken, steaming hot, and some vegetables on it.  Then he leaned against Neville, ignoring the way that Teddy made a face and the way that he heard a few female voices letting out excited squeaks, and took a bite of his food.

 

That was all he managed before a shadow appeared over them.  Harry looked up to find himself staring into his oldest child’s face, which was contorted into what Harry could only call a grimace.

 

Harry sighed and sat up.  “Hello, James,” he said quietly.  “What can I help you with?”

 

James glanced at Teddy, then at Neville, his grimace turning into a frown.  “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”  He looked down at the ground.  “Maybe by yourself.  Without… _ him _ .”  The venom in his voice was clearly directed at Neville, judging by the way that he glared at him as he said the word.

 

Neville immediately shifted back, away from Harry.  “That’s not a problem,” he said quietly.  He went to stand up, but froze when Harry gripped his hand.

 

“Listen, James,” Harry started.  Then he stopped and cleared his throat.  “You can be mad at me all you want for divorcing your mother, even if I don’t quite think it’s fair of you to continue to hold that against me when it was a mutual decision.  You can be as mean as you want to me about the divorce, and that’s fine.  But you really need to stop being angry at the one person who hasn’t done anything wrong in all of this.”

 

James opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap.  “I’m not angry at Professor Longbottom,” he muttered.  He wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes, just stared at the ground.

 

“You’re certainly acting like you are,” Harry said sharply.  “Now, Neville and I are dating, and he’s… he might very well be a part of my life for a very long time.  If you can’t handle that, I’d rather you just go.”

 

“I didn’t come to fight about this!” James snapped.  He looked up, and his cheeks were pink with either rage or embarrassment, or a combination of both.  “I came to…”  He cleared his throat.  “I wanted to apologize,” he muttered.

 

“Jamie, that isn’t how you start an apology,” Teddy said, laughing.  He hadn’t moved at all from his spot on the blanket, and probably had never intended to.

 

“I know it isn’t!”  James looked back down at the ground, scowling.  “I didn’t mean to be rude or anything, I just really wanted to talk to my father alone, okay?  Because he deserves an apology, because I’ve been an ass, and I didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of everyone here.  But since everyone’s apparently trying to take everything I say the wrong way, I guess I’ll just say it:  I’m sorry, Dad.”

 

Harry sighed and stood up.  He pulled James into a hug, which his son didn’t resist.  “It’s okay,” he said gently.  “I’m not going to lie and say that you didn’t hurt me with your attitude, but we’ll be fine.”  He didn’t say that it might take time, because that wasn’t what his son needed to hear at the moment.  He just needed for Harry to accept his apology, and Harry could do that.  As long as he didn’t use that as license to continue to insult Neville.

 

James let himself be held for a minute, then pulled back.  “Professor Longbottom?” he asked quietly.  “Can you forgive me for my earlier rudeness?”

 

Neville smiled at him.  “Of course I can,” he said calmly.  “I understand that you and your siblings are going through a difficult time, and I know that you must be confused.  Consider it forgotten.”

 

James nodded.  “Thanks,” he muttered.  He glanced at Teddy.  “I’m not apologizing to you,” he said, a teasing lilt entering his voice.

 

Teddy just rolled his eyes.  “Watch it, brat.  I’m a professor now; I could kick your ar—”

 

“Teddy!” Harry yelped, and glanced meaningfully in the direction of the still-giggling students.

 

Teddy fell silent, his own eyes widening.  “I hate being a role model,” he muttered, following Harry’s gaze.  He turned his nose into a pig snout and stuck his tongue out at the girls, causing their giggles to turn into full-blown laughter.

 

James shifted awkwardly, drawing Harry’s gaze back to him.  “Right.”  He swallowed.  “Well, that’s what I came to say, and I’ve said it, so I think I’m going to head home.  I’ve got a lot to do before the start of the week and I—”

 

“Or you could stay and eat lunch with us,” Harry said quickly, interrupting his son.  He glanced at Neville, who nodded.  “We have plenty of food, and I’d like to catch up with you and see what you’ve been up to.”

 

James hesitated.  He glanced at Neville, then at Teddy.  “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked.  He didn’t move to sit down.

 

Teddy jumped up and slung an arm around James’ shoulders.  “Come on, brat, sit and eat with us.”

 

James still hesitated, but when Teddy shoved at him, he settled gingerly on the blanket like he was frightened that it would bite him.  “Sure,” he said, a bit uncertainly.  He took a deep breath.  “Yeah, I can join you for lunch.”

 

“Good,” Harry said, and tried out a smile.  It worked, but it was a bit shaky.  “We have chicken and vegetables and… what else do we have?”

 

“A feast,” Neville answered.

 

“Don’t the house elves know what picnic food is like?” James asked, clearly exasperated as he was handed one of the lovely, breakable plates.

 

“We were just talking about that!” Teddy said, laughing.  “I was telling your father that he should introduce them to paper plates and the like, and he’d change their worlds.”

 

“Oh yeah, Dad, that’s a great idea!” James exclaimed, taking up the topic with enthusiasm.

 

Harry just groaned.  Why had he thought that having James join them for lunch was a good idea?  His oldest son was more trouble than any of his students, and knowing him, he’d have Harry believing that it was a good idea to go to a Muggle store for paper plates by the end of the meal.

 

Even so, it was a good meal, and Harry was glad to have his oldest child back in his life.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“James came to see me,” he said quietly to Neville, later that day.  They were in their rooms once more, curled up together on the couch.  “He came to see me, and to apologize.”

 

“I know,” Neville murmured back.  He pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.  “I’m very happy for you, Harry.”

 

Harry sighed and squirmed closer.  “I didn’t think he would,” he confessed.  “I thought that Albus would be the only one to stay in my life, and I…”  He let out a small, shuddering sigh.  “I’m just really happy.”  He buried his face in Neville’s neck so that his boyfriend couldn’t see the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

 

He’d really thought…  it had been heartbreaking, to know that two out of three of his children had hated him.  And now that he had James back… well, he was just hoping that Lily would come around.  Her anger, her hatred, was just as frustrating as hers and James’ had been together.  He’d thought it would get better, but that wasn’t the case.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Neville whispered to him.  Harry realized that he was taking in hitching breaths, making his tears more obvious than he’d wanted them to be.  “Everything’s going to be fine, Harry.  Your daughter will see reason once she moves past her hurt and anger.”

 

Harry exhaled forcibly and swallowed the lump in his throat.  “Yeah,” he said.  He stayed cuddled in Neville’s arms for what felt like a small eternity.  Once he felt a bit better, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes.  “Yeah, everything’s going to be okay.”

 

Neville smiled at him and brushed his bangs from his eyes.  “Good.”  He leaned forward and kissed Harry quietly, chastely on the lips.  “Now that you’re feeling a bit better, why don’t you go see what Minerva wants from us?  A house elf dropped off a letter from her just a few minutes ago.”

 

Harry frowned.  “And I didn’t hear them?” he asked, even as he got off the couch.  How out of it had he been?  He’d thought he’d been relatively alert, but maybe not if he hadn’t heard the popping.

 

“They were very quiet,” Neville answered, amused.

 

Harry wrinkled his nose at him, then picked up the note.  “She wants us to meet her in her office as soon as we get this note.  She takes great care to add a note saying that we aren’t in trouble or anything like that, and this is only going to be a friendly chat.”  He scowled down at the note.  He didn’t like the sound of that.  It sounded an awful lot like a trap.

 

“You don’t want to have a friendly chat with Minerva?” Neville asked.  He got off the couch and crossed to Harry.  “We have those with her all the time.”

 

“Yes,” Harry said, drawing out the word.  “But she doesn’t normally ask us to meet her specifically for a chat.  I think it’s a trap.”

 

Neville burst into laughter.  “Why would it be a trap?”

 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, feeling a bit defensive.  “I just think that it doesn’t sound right, and that she probably wants to talk to us about something important or she would have waited until she ran into us at a meal or something.”

 

Neville shrugged and hugged Harry for a second before releasing him.  “Maybe it is important, but important doesn’t mean bad.”  He shook his head and headed for the door.  “I really am glad that you got out of the Aurors, Harry.  I think it made you paranoid.”

 

“Voldemort did that a long time before the Aurors could,” Harry muttered.  He followed Neville from the room, though.

 

The walk to the Headmistress’ office wasn’t a particularly long one, and Harry found himself sitting in a chair next to Neville in short order.  

 

Minerva stared at them both over her desk, her lips twitching into a smile.  “Harry, why on earth do you look like you’re standing in front of a firing squad?”

 

Harry sighed.  “Because I feel like you’re about to ambush us with something,” he muttered.  “Neville already told me how ridiculous I was being, but I can’t change the way I’m feeling.”

 

“I was telling him that I’m glad he’s not an Auror anymore, because it’s made him paranoid,” Neville said, and patted Harry’s hand when Harry shot him a betrayed look.  “I’m also glad he’s not teaching Defense anymore.  Flying’s been much more relaxing for him.”

 

Harry shook his head and sighed.  “I do like teaching flying,” he said.  “Thank you for that.”

 

“Oh, it was my pleasure, I can assure you,” Minerva said.  “Now, gentlemen, as it happens, I did call you hear for a reason, but I wouldn’t call it a bad reason.  I just… had a thought that I wished to share with the two of you.  An… opportunity, that you might be interested in.”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  That sounded… suspicious.  “What sort of opportunity?” he asked warily.

 

Minerva just laughed at him.  “Like I said, it’s nothing bad.  It’s just that, as Headmistress, I’m privy to certain information that the house elves gather.  Normally, they’re reporting to me when students don’t sleep in their beds, but I suppose they thought that professors needed to be reported as well.  To that end, since Neville hasn’t slept in his bed in… well, in quite some time now, I thought it might be prudent to mention that we offer larger quarters for married staff members.”

 

Harry blushed violently, and glanced at Neville to find that his boyfriend was blushing just as badly.  “We’re not married,” he finally stammered.

 

“We haven’t even had that conversation yet,” Neville added, just as shakily.  He glanced at Harry and opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head.

 

“I’m aware that the two of you aren’t married,” Minerva said with a nod.  “But it does seem rather silly to make the house elves continue to clean two sets of rooms when one of them is only in use long enough for Neville to grab his things and take them to your room, Harry.”

 

Harry nodded slowly.  “I see your point,” he said.  “But I think that Neville and I should probably talk about it more ourselves before we make a decision one way or another.”

 

Harry loved the idea of moving in with Neville, but what if Neville didn’t?  What if Neville liked having his own space away from Harry that he could retreat to if he needed to?

 

“That’s fair,” Minerva said.  She glanced down at her desk, a small smile on her face.  “Why don’t the two of you take some time to think it over, and get back to me, say, in a week?  Or sooner, of course, if you make a decision quicker than that.”

 

“We’ll do that,” Neville said quickly, and stood up.  He glanced at Harry, then headed out of the room.

 

Harry felt his heart drop.  Neville hated the idea.  He offered Minerva a shaky smile, then turned and practically fled the office.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

They didn’t talk about it until after dinner, when they were back in Harry’s rooms and Neville was reading.  Harry hadn’t been able to bring it up before then, and Neville didn’t try either.  He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about it at all, but now that the idea had been given to him, Harry found that there was nothing he wanted more, other than for Lily to stop being angry with him.

 

He cleared his throat.  “So.  Moving in together,” he said, a bit shakily.

 

Neville put his book down.  “Yeah, that was a bit unexpected.”  He laughed, the sound more high pitched than normal.  He was clearly nervous, judging by the way that he wouldn’t meet Harry’s gaze.

 

Harry swallowed.  Neville really didn’t like the idea, not if he was acting like he might have before their fifth year.  “We don’t… I mean, I can see why she made the offer, but it’s not something that we have to do,” he muttered, dropping his gaze.

 

He wanted to, though, and the thought that Neville didn’t want to was a painful one.

 

“Right!”  Neville didn’t sound particularly happy, in spite of the cheer he was putting in his voice.  “I mean, Harry, it’s okay.  I understand that you’re still… it hasn’t been as long for you since things ended with Ginny as it’s been for me, so I get that you’re not interested—”

 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Harry interrupted, his eyes widening.  “I just… I don’t want to push you or anything.  I know I’m kind of high maintenance, and things around me, with the kids and all, they’re such a mess that I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to…”

 

“Harry, I don’t mind your mess at all,” Neville said.  He stood up and crossed the room to kneel in front of Harry.  “Cards on the table.  Is this something that you want, moving in together?”

 

Harry swallowed.  “You say that you don’t mind, but what if you change your mind?” he asked, his voice small.  “I don’t… I mean, what if you change your mind and you don’t have anywhere to retreat to and you wind up hating me and—”

 

“There is nothing in this world, short of you becoming a Dark Lord, that could make me hate you,” Neville said clearly.  “I l…”  Neville took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself.  “Harry, I love you.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  He gave up on trying to speak and instead slid off of the chair and into Neville’s arms.  He clung to him for several minutes, unable to speak, and when he finally could, he whispered, “I love you too.”

 

Neville’s arms tightened around him.  “Good,” he whispered in Harry’s ear.  “Then, since we both love each other, and since I think we both want to move in together in spite of our fears, do you think we should give it a shot?”

 

Harry laughed, the sound a little soggy.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve made stupider decisions for worse reasons in my lifetime,” he said, and leaned up for a kiss.

 

Neville met him halfway, and they spent the rest of the night curled up together.

 

They told Minerva their answer in the morning, and she didn’t even have the decency to look surprised.  She just smiled at them both, wished them well, and told them that their new rooms wouldn’t be ready for a few weeks, but they would be able to move before the end of the school year.

 

Harry couldn’t have said whether he was more nervous or more excited, but either way, he was happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am, a little over a month late, with a new chapter.  My only excuse was that April and May were both difficult months for me in the real world, and I was slacking off.  I’m still slacking off, which means I can’t promise that this story will update every week until it finishes, but I swear that it will be done before the end of summer.


	8. Chapter Eight

 

It was the day after they’d decided to move in together, a Monday, and Harry was staring at Neville, terror in his eyes.  “No,” he said bluntly.  It looked like they were about to have their first fight, and Harry hated the idea.  Still, he couldn’t… he wouldn’t…

 

Neville sighed.  “Harry,” he started, a bit like he was humoring Harry.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m not doing it, Neville.”  He crossed his arms and pushed himself further back into the couch, as though he could distance himself from both Neville and the idea he’d presented.

 

“Harry,” Neville said again, and came to kneel in front of him.  He held out his hands to Harry, and Harry reluctantly took them.  “This is really important to me,” Neville whispered.  “I know that you’re frightened, but—”

 

“I am not frightened!” Harry objected, more on principle than anything else.  Yes, he was frightened.  He was terrified.  What if… what if… the word just kept spinning around and around in his head.  Yes, Neville had said that his fears were groundless, but if… if Augusta didn’t like him…

 

What if she provided the wake-up call that would finally see Neville leaving him and his train wreck of a life behind him?

 

“Harry, sweetheart,” Neville started again.  He shook his head and laughed a little.  “Your hands are shaking.  You’re terrified.”

 

Harry blinked down at his hands.  Sure enough, they were trembling around Neville’s own.  “Well.  Okay then,” he muttered, staring at his hands like they were traitors.  “So I’m a little frightened of meeting your grandmother.”

 

“Gran’s… well, not harmless, but I’m sure you’ve dealt with scarier things than an old woman.” Neville lifted one of Harry’s hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

 

“She was your boggart when we were children,” Harry pointed out.  He took a deep breath and tried to make himself relax.  She might be terrifying, but she was also old.  Harry was pretty sure he could take her in a fight if it came to that.  Not that he wanted it to come to that.

 

Merlin, this was going to be a disaster, and he hadn’t even agreed to it yet.

 

“That was when I was much younger, and also she was terrifying back then,” Neville said.  There was an undertone to his voice that made Harry wonder if he meant what he was saying.  “You would have had her as your boggart if you’d known her back in the day.”

 

Harry thought of the Dursleys and shuddered.  “If my boggart hadn’t been a dementor, I honestly think it would have been my uncle,” he said.  Then he shook his head.  “But that’s neither here nor there.  Neville, I told you before that I don’t know that I feel comfortable meeting her.”

 

Neville’s face scrunched up.  “I understand that,” he said patiently.  “I understand that Molly is a… that she hurt your feelings, and you’re probably wary of meeting my Gran because of her, but Gran is nothing like Molly!”

 

“No, she’s a lot more frightening!”  Molly, after all, had never been anyone’s boggart.  Not that Harry knew of, anyway.

 

“Harry,” Neville said, exasperated.  “Please, would you just let me finish?”

 

Harry bit his lip.  Neville looked genuinely frustrated, something that he hadn’t seen since they’d gotten together.  Not directed at him, anyway.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Neville’s lips.  “Yeah,” he said.  He tried out a smile, and it wasn’t too shaky.

 

Neville smiled back, then lifted one of his hands to stroke along Harry’s cheek.  “I get why you’re frightened,” he said softly.  “But Harry, Gran is really important to me.  She raised me, and I get that you’re nervous after Molly, but I don’t know that I can move in with you until I’ve spoken to her about our relationship.”  Then Neville winced.  “Even if there is a chance that she isn’t going to approve.”  This last was muttered, like Neville didn’t want to admit it to himself, either.

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  “I never meant that you couldn’t tell her about us!” he protested, choosing to ignore the last thing that Neville had said.  “Neville, you should tell her whatever you have to!”

 

Neville’s smile softened.  “Thank you, Harry,” he said, and brought Harry’s hand up for another kiss.  “But the minute I tell her about you, she’s going to want to meet you.”

 

Harry sighed.  He could see himself giving in now, and it really did frighten him.  What if she hated him?  What if she wanted to know why he’d divorced Ginny?  What if…

 

He forced himself to think past that.  She probably wouldn’t hate him.  He could be charming when he had to be, even if he hated doing it.  He hadn’t been promoted to Head Auror solely because of his ability as an Auror, but also because he was capable of playing politics when he needed to.  He could put up with doing that for an afternoon if it was necessary, if it would make Neville happy.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he said with a small sigh.  “We can go visit your grandmother, whenever she’s ready for us to come see her.”

 

Neville practically beamed at him.  “Thank you, Harry,” he breathed, and leaned forward to pull Harry into a gentle hug.  “I promise, you won’t regret this.”

 

Harry let out a choked little laugh.  “You have no way of making that promise,” he muttered.  He let himself be hugged, forced himself to relax into it.

 

“I’m going to write her, okay?” Neville didn’t pull away quickly, but he pulled away faster than Harry would have liked.

 

Still, as nervous as he was, as terrified as he was at the thought of Augusta hating him the way that Harry suspected she would, Harry thought that it was strange that Neville seemed so happy about the visit, given that he was almost positive that he was faking it.

 

Harry just hoped that the meeting wasn’t an absolute disaster.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

His sleep that night was restless in a way that it hadn’t been in literally years.

 

He had trouble falling asleep, plagued by the letter that Neville had sent out that night.  It probably wouldn’t take long to reach Augusta, and for all that he knew, it could be that they were visiting her next Saturday.  Harry couldn’t sleep knowing that he might be losing Neville within a week.  Because surely, surely he wouldn’t go against the wishes of his grandmother?  Not if she was so important to him, important enough to want to go see her, to fake being happy to go see her…

 

Once he did manage to fall asleep, his night was plagued with terrible dreams.  He heard Molly shouting at him, telling him that he was no son of hers.  He heard his Aunt, calling him freak and boy.  He heard his Uncle, telling him that his parents had probably gotten into that accident on purpose so that they wouldn’t have to raise a monster like him.

 

Harry sat up straight, his breathing coming in quick pants.  He slipped out of bed as quickly and quietly as he could, so that he wouldn’t disturb Neville, and headed into the living room.  He collapsed on the couch and buried his head in his hands.

 

This was ridiculous.  Even if Molly disliked him now, even if his Aunt and Uncle had hated him growing up, he knew that was no indication that Augusta would hate him.  He knew it.  And he knew that his parents hadn’t died just to get out of raising him, no matter what his dream-Uncle had said.

 

Still.

 

He couldn’t quite make himself go back into his room and lie down beside Neville.  What if he started dreaming again?  What if next time it was someone else telling him how awful he’d been, like Sirius?

 

He wasn’t expecting the warm blanket to drape over his shoulders, or for Neville to settle on the couch next to him.  Once he realized that Neville was there, though, he wasn’t surprised when his boyfriend… partner, maybe? pulled him into his arms and tucked him under his chin.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Neville asked, his voice husky with sleep.

 

Harry could think of few things he wanted less.  He would rather visit with Augusta right at that very moment then talk about his dream, which would lead to conversation about the Dursleys.  “No,” he said, his voice hoarse.  “I’d really rather not.”

 

Neville hummed a little.  “Okay,” he said.  He shifted backwards on the couch, so that he was lying back with his head pillowed on the arm, and tugged Harry with him, so that Harry was curled up on top of him.  “Then we won’t talk.  About that, anyway.  We’ll have to talk about something if we’re staying awake.”

 

Harry winced.  “You don’t have to stay up with me,” he said.  Even if it warmed the cold places left inside from the awful dream that Neville was willing to do so.

 

“Of course I don’t,” Neville said.  He kissed Harry’s forehead.  “But I’m gonna go ahead and do it anyway, unless you can tell me right now, looking me in the eye, that you won’t feel better with company.”

 

Harry couldn’t stop his shy little smile.  “I can’t do that,” he said.  “But we don’t need to stay up.  We can go back to bed.”  Still, he made no move to get off of Neville.  He was warm, and comfortable.

 

“Mmm.”  Neville shifted a little bit, then curled his arms around Harry’s waist.  “We could,” he said, sounding sleepy.  “Or we could spend the night on the couch.  It isn’t like it will hurt us.”

 

Harry’s eyes were already drooping closed.  “It might hurt our backs,” he muttered.  “We’re not as young as we used to be.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Neville breathed.  “I’m just as young as when I was a first year.”

 

That was the last of their conversation Harry remembered.  The rest of his night passed peacefully, with no dreams that he could recall in the morning.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Augusta’s response had arrived by the time Harry and Neville finished teaching for the day, delivered not by an owl but instead by a quiet house elf, who handed the missive to Neville with a low bow before disappearing with a quiet pop.

 

Neville hesitated, glancing at Harry with a raised eyebrow.  “Are you ready for me to open this?” he asked, not at all teasing.

 

Harry sighed.  “I’ve already resigned myself to visiting with her sometime this weekend, if what you said was true.”

 

Neville laughed quietly.  “Fair.”  He opened the letter, then let out a small snort.  “She’s keeping Trevelle until we get there to take her back.  She said that I’m shamefully neglecting my owl.  I’m pretty sure that she’s joking, and she’s probably holding her hostage to make sure that we come.”

 

“That’s not nice,” Harry muttered.  He frowned down at his book.  And to think, he’d been enjoying reading up on some of the history of the International Quidditch League.

 

Neville just bumped him with his shoulder.  “It’s brilliant, because she knows that without an owl, we can’t send a rejection letter to her.  And of course, I was right, and she’s expecting us for tea on Saturday afternoon.  So that’ll be a thing.”

 

Harry closed his book and leaned into Neville.  “At least it’ll be over before Sunday, so that I can have some time to recover from what is doubtlessly going to be a traumatic event for me,” he muttered.

 

Neville’s laugh was soft and a little shaky.  “Harry, I swear to you, she’s going to love you.  And…”  Neville stopped.

 

Harry blinked at him.  “And?” he prompted.  Neville wasn’t the type to hide what he was thinking, not anymore.

 

“And even if she doesn’t, I promise that it won’t affect our relationship.”  Neville leaned forward and kissed Harry, softly and sweetly.  “I swear it.”

 

Harry drew in a shuddering breath.  “Thanks,” he muttered, and opened his book again to hide his face inside of it.  How Neville had known… well, it wasn’t like he didn’t wear his insecurities on his sleeve, these days.

 

Neville dropped a kiss on Harry’s forehead and then opened his own book, leaving Harry to hide in peace.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry hated dressing up, and he hated being nervous, and this event had the misfortune of combining both of the things he hated the most.  Neville had warned him that his usual robes wouldn’t do for tea with his grandmother, and so Harry had been forced to dig out the robes he’d worn for important meetings as Head Auror.  Neville himself was wearing something more formal than the usual clothes he wore to teach in.

 

“I want you to know how miserable I am,” Harry muttered to Neville.  He was waiting with Neville in his grandmother’s parlor, a room which looked very much like it belonged in an old woman’s house, given that everything that could be was covered in floral print.

 

“I know,” Neville said.  He sounded more amused than upset, and he patted Harry’s hand.  “It will be fine.  I promise.  Grandmother is going to love you.”

 

“I am, am I?” Augusta asked as she walked into the room.  Her only concession to her advanced age was the fact that she walked with a cane and a slight limp.  Otherwise, she stood tall and straight, and her eyes were sharp as they raked over Harry.  “I have to tell you, Neville, when you wrote to me that you were seeing Harry Potter, I confess that I didn’t quite believe you.”

 

Neville blushed.  “I’m not surprised,” he said, with a small, self-deprecating laugh.  “I know that I haven’t had nearly as exciting a life as he has.”

 

Harry blinked and glanced at Neville.  He seemed to be serious.  Harry frowned.  “You think that I want someone who’s had some crazy, exciting life?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.  “Have I given you that impression?”

 

Neville shook his head.  “That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly.  “I just… I just meant that I was agreeing with Gran,” he muttered, a bit lamely.  He glanced down at his hands.

 

Harry followed his gaze to see that Neville’s hands were knotted in his lap.  He was nervous.  He was very nervous, maybe more than Harry, and Harry had… Harry’s insecurities had probably made that so much worse.  He’d claimed that he’d grown out of having Augusta as his boggart, but now Harry wasn’t so sure that he’d told the truth.

 

Harry didn’t even think about it, he just reached out and grabbed Neville’s hand, tugging it to him.  “I’m very happy with your grandson,” he said firmly to Augusta.  “He’s been everything that I could want and more in a partner.”

 

“At least since your divorce with the Weasley girl,” Augusta pointed out.  She settled primly in the chair across from the couch that Harry and Neville occupied, and snapped her fingers.  A small house elf appeared immediately with a tray filled with a tea pot, cups, and small finger foods.  “Tell me about your divorce,” she commanded as the house elf began to pour the tea.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “It was a mutual decision,” he said finally, making a conscious decision to relax.  “Ginny and I thought that we were happy together, but as the years wore on, we found that we were less compatible than we had initially believed.”

 

“And those incompatibilities?”  Augusta picked up her now-full teacup and took a sip, staring at Harry from under arched eyebrows.

 

Harry just stared back.  “I don’t know that that’s any of your business,” he said coolly.

 

Neville looked between his grandmother and Harry, his eyes widening.  Rather than speaking, he took a quick sip of his tea and dropped his gaze.

 

That was okay.  Harry was actually feeling a little bit better about this meeting.  From what he could see right now, Augusta was just a nosy old woman who wanted what was best for her grandson, and that included vetting his boyfriend.  Partner.  Whatever they were.

 

Augusta tipped her teacup in his direction, as though awarding him a point.  Then she said, “Perhaps it isn’t.  Whether or not it is, the question stands.  What incompatibilities were so bad that you could no longer make it work between the two of you?”

 

Harry considered the question.  There was the largest issue, that he would never speak of to anyone but his closest friends.  But… but there had been other things that he and Ginny had bickered over, things that might have eventually come to a head had the first issue not presented itself.  He took a sip of his tea while he thought it over.

 

Finally, he set his cup down on his saucer.  “I think the biggest difference between Ginny and myself was that Ginny was always looking for more adventure,” he said quietly.  “I did most of my adventuring when I was younger, during the war.  What little appetite I had left for it was eaten up by my work as an Auror, and by the time I was done with field work and working as Head Auror, I had little interest in anything resembling adventure.  Ginny… she wanted more than that, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  But I was ready for a more quiet life.”

 

Augusta let out a thoughtful hum.  “That’s interesting,” she murmured.  “I suppose that means that life as a Hogwarts professor is perfect for you, isn’t it?  There’s certainly nothing like adventure in there, is there?”  There was something chiding in her words.

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “Perhaps not the traditional sort of adventure,” he said.  “But there’s something in knowing that I’m helping the children who will be our next generation learn skills that may very well save their lives one day.”

 

“Of course that was true when you were teaching Defense,” Augusta said, and there was the slightest sneer in her voice now.  “But now, you’re simply a flying instructor.  I’d put that up there with herbology when it comes to useless talents.”

 

Neville flinched.  Harry’s eyes narrowed.  She could pick on him all she wanted, but saying something like that about her own grandson?  Harry wouldn’t tolerate that, not when Neville had been nothing but good to him.  “Well, Madame Longbottom, that would make you wrong,” he said coldly.  “Neville, I think we’ve had enough tea, don’t you?”

 

“Harry, I…”  Neville put down his cup.  “What she said about flying, it isn’t true,” he whispered.  But he said nothing of herbology, and didn’t protest when Harry stood up and drew him to his feet.

 

“Running away?”  Augusta raised an eyebrow at them.  “I would have thought that the man who defeated Voldemort would have more of a spine than that.”

 

“I have plenty of spine, Madame Longbottom,” Harry said flatly.  “Enough to know that I don’t need to spend a day off listening to a tired old woman insult her grandson, who loves her dearly enough to tolerate her poor behavior.”

 

Neville still didn’t protest when Harry tugged on him to get him moving, steering him out of the house.  Once they were outside, he whispered, “I really thought she was happy for me, given her answer in the letter.”

 

Harry didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Neville.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “If I could have held my temper, maybe it would have gone better.”

 

Neville clung to him, his hands knotting in the front of Harry’s robes.  “No, I think she was determined to be upset about this,” he whispered.  Harry could feel dampness on his neck, where Neville was hiding his face.  “She was so happy when I was with Hannah, at least before she realized that I really didn’t intend to go into Ministry work or anything like that.”

 

Harry sighed and squeezed Neville tighter.  “I’m so sorry,” he said again.  Looking back, he could see Neville’s apprehension about the visit, that he’d shoved aside in order to comfort Harry each time.  “I wish I could help.”

 

“Just being here is a help,” Neville said with a sigh.  “Not agreeing with her.”

 

Harry didn’t want to think about Hannah agreeing with Augusta, and whether or not that was part of the reason Augusta had liked her so much.  Instead, he asked, “Why don’t we go to Fortescue’s for some ice cream while we’re out?”

 

Neville pulled away, confusion on his face.  “Harry, that’s in public,” he pointed out.  “You don’t like going out in public, right?”

 

Harry considered that.  “That’s true,” he said slowly.  “But I want ice cream.  And I’d really like to go out in public with you.  If you’re willing, of course, knowing the media storm we might cause.”

 

Neville let out a small, slightly soggy laugh.  “Ice cream sounds good,” he said.

 

Harry took his hand, and the two of them Apparated together to Diagon Alley.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

By the time they were finishing their ice cream, in spite of the fact that Harry had counted at least three photographers taking their pictures, both of them were in much better moods.  Neville, for one, had a bright smile on his face as he dug around in his ice cream dish for the last bits of the dessert.  Harry would have gone through much more than being photographed to bring that smile to his face.

 

Neville finally succeeded in getting what he was digging for, and popped his final bite into his mouth.  Once he’d finished, he said hesitantly, “You know, while we’re out and about, there is one other trip that I’d like to make.”

 

Harry didn’t particularly want to go anywhere else, and was more than ready to retreat to Hogwarts, but… But Neville did seem hopeful, so Harry shrugged.  “If you’d like,” he said.  He glanced at the final photographer, who’d taken three or four photos by this point.  “Although I do think that I would prefer it if we didn’t stay here.”

 

Neville followed his gaze and his eyes widened.  “How long has he been there?” he asked, startled.

 

“Twenty minutes or so,” Harry answered with a shrug.  “There were two others here before him.  I’m pretty sure I saw Rita’s photographer, so there’s that.”

 

Neville groaned.  “Well, at least we haven’t kissed or anything,” he muttered.  “Then they might have something more than speculation to write about.”

 

Harry grinned, seized by a sudden surge of rare mischievousness.  “You’re right, we haven’t,” he said, then darted forward and pressed his lips to Neville’s before Neville could answer.  When he pulled back, Neville was laughing quietly.  “Now that we’ve made that guy’s day, you ready to head out?”

 

Neville, still laughing, nodded and stood.  “Yeah.”

 

“Where are we Apparating to?”

 

Neville hesitated.  “Actually, it’s close enough, we could probably walk?  But we wouldn’t be staying in Diagon Alley, we’d be walking in Muggle London, so if you’d rather not…”

 

Harry shook his head.  “That’s fine,” he said.  He took Neville’s hand, unashamed to be seen in public doing so, and the two of them left the ice cream parlor.

 

They left Diagon Alley, then Neville headed off in one direction, tugging Harry along with him.  Although Harry wasn’t certain of where they were headed, it didn’t take him long to figure out when the old, abandoned department store rose in front of them.  He swallowed and squeezed Neville’s hand.

 

This visit, he hoped, would go much better than the last one.

 

Getting into St. Mungo’s was easy enough, as was getting up to the wing where Neville’s parents were kept.  Harry waited off to one side as Neville discussed something with his parents’ Healer, and then they were being let into the Longbottoms’ room.

 

“Hello, Mum and Dad,” Neville whispered, his voice a little choked.

 

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he wrapped his arm around Neville’s waist and pulled him closer towards him.

 

The silence stretched in the room.  Neither Alice nor Frank were paying any attention to Harry or Neville, and were instead as lost in their own minds as they had been when Harry had seen them in his fifth year at Hogwarts.

 

“I know that you probably won’t…”  Neville sighed.  “What I mean to say is, I came to introduce you to Harry Potter.  He’s my boyfriend.  We’re dating, and we’re getting ready to move in together in the next few weeks.  I introduced him to Gran, but you know how she can be.  I thought I’d introduce him to the two of you as well, since, well, you’re my parents and I love you very much.”

 

Harry squeezed Neville a little tighter when his words didn’t get any kind of response.

 

Neville didn’t seem upset by it, and instead let out a small laugh.  “I’d like to think that the two of you would have liked him very much.  He defeated Voldemort, worked as an Auror, and now he teaches flying.  I think you would have gotten along well.”

 

Harry cleared his throat.  “Your son makes me very happy,” he said quietly.  “He’s a wonderful man, and I wish that the two of you could know how amazing he is.”

 

Neville cleared his throat.  “Thanks,” he whispered.  He leaned briefly against Harry, then stood up straight.  “Anyway, we have to be getting back to Hogwarts.  I just wanted to stop by and introduce the two of you to him.  I’ll drop by and see you later, okay?”

 

The two of them left the building and returned to Hogwarts shortly thereafter.

 

They didn’t talk about either visit, and later that night, after a dinner in the Great Hall spent surrounded by their fellow professors and students and laughter and joy, Harry held Neville close as they drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter Nine

 

The weeks until it was time for Harry and Neville to move in together seemed to fly by.  School was wrapping up for the year, and the students were all stressed.  This wasn’t so much a problem for Harry, since his class was more stress relief than stress-inducing, but Neville was more tired than normal.

 

That, combined with his grandmother’s reaction to their relationship, made him more irritable than normal, and left Harry feeling like he was walking on eggshells around his partner.

 

He found himself falling back on tricks he’d used when he’d been with the Dursleys to make himself less noticeable, and even though Harry knew it wasn’t a good idea, knew that he shouldn’t feel that way in a proper relationship, he still couldn’t stop himself from doing it.  And he didn’t know if it was Neville’s fault or his own, but he was angry with himself for doing it, regardless.

 

It was the Friday before they were going to move in together, and now Harry was wondering if this was a good idea after all.  He didn’t want to live his life like he’d lived with the Dursleys, sneaking around and trying his hardest not to be noticed, lest he draw their wrath down on him.  Things with Neville shouldn’t be like that.  Harry didn’t know much about relationships, but he was pretty sure that he was right about that.

 

He drew in a deep breath, glanced at the clock, and forced himself to catch Neville’s attention.  “Do you want to get dinner?” he asked Neville quietly, something hard and anxious in the pit of his stomach.

 

Neville looked up from the papers he was grading, a fearsome scowl on his face.  The parchment stack in front of him was large, and would likely take him most of the weekend at the best of times.  Given that he and Harry were supposed to be moving in together the next day, Harry was almost certain that they wouldn’t be getting done.

 

“Does it look like I have time to get dinner?” Neville bit out.  He jerked his eyes back down to the piece of parchment in front of him.

 

“I could help,” Harry said hesitantly.  “After we eat something.  I could try grading some of the papers.”

 

“What do  _ you _ know about Herbology?” Neville asked.  He didn’t look up from the paper in front of him.

 

Harry’s breath left him in a small, pained noise that Neville either didn’t hear or didn’t care about.  “Nothing,” Harry said dully.  “I’ll see you later.”

 

He slipped from the room before his tears could start to fall.  Once outside, he leaned against the cold stone of the walls and took several shuddering breaths.  He took off his glasses and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes.  It didn’t help, not really.  He was still crying, he knew it, and he couldn’t go to the Great Hall in tears.

 

So he didn’t.  He wandered the castle quietly for what felt like forever.  What was he doing?  Getting into a serious relationship so soon after things had fallen apart with Ginny…  And Neville was… he was so angry lately, and yes, they were both under large amounts of stress, but Harry… he felt like he was making excuses.

 

He didn’t want to, but he thought that maybe he should go to Minerva and tell her that the move was off, that he and Neville should keep separate rooms.  And maybe they shouldn’t make plans for over the summer, even though Harry had been thinking that it might be nice to spend some time travelling with Neville.  Maybe this was all moving too fast, and Harry should just… give up.

 

He drew in another shuddering breath and headed for the kitchens, the growling in his stomach almost an afterthought.  He got food from the elves, who were as exuberant and ready to provide as always, then headed back to his rooms.  Maybe… maybe Neville would eat with him now?

 

He wasn’t expecting to be half-tackled when he entered the room, and the plate of food went flying under the sudden assault.

 

A bit of quick wandwork on the part of the assailant caught the plate and the food, leaving both unharmed, though Neville didn’t let go of Harry.

 

Harry swallowed, staring up at Neville.  “Hi,” he said, a bit weakly.

 

“Where did you go?” Neville asked urgently.

 

Harry shrugged.  “I just… I wandered.  I wasn’t hungry, so I wandered, and then I thought maybe you might like food, so I stopped by the kitchens and got enough for both of us.  What’s wrong?”

 

“I couldn’t find you.”  Neville put the plate of food down, then collapsed on top of Harry.  “I was such an ass to you earlier, Harry.  I’m so sorry.”

 

Harry swallowed.  “I…”  He wanted to say that it was okay, that they didn’t ever need to talk about it again, but…  “I don’t like the way that things have been for the past two weeks,” he whispered.  He pressed on Neville’s shoulders, and Neville immediately got off of him and shifted back to sit on the floor.  Harry sat up.  “It’s…”  Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

Neville was frowning, a little furrow between his brow.  “I know that I’ve been more stressed than normal, and I know that I’ve been a bit short tempered, but…”

 

Harry shook his head, cutting Neville off with the gesture.  “You have, and that’s… it would be okay, but I…”  He stopped again.  He didn’t want to talk about the Dursleys.  It had been horrible while he’d been growing up, but it was over, and he hated that they still had power over him so long after they’d left his life.

 

“Harry?” Neville asked.  “You know that I don’t want to hurt you.  If my irritability is having a bad effect—”

 

“You’re allowed to be irritable in your own home!” Harry snapped.  He wasn’t angry with Neville, and he knew that.  He was mad at himself, at the mess that he was, that he was making of all of this.  If he were just… just normal… then…

 

“Not if it’s hurting you,” Neville said carefully.  He moved forward and settled next to Harry, then wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  “I think this is something we need to talk about, Harry.  I never want to hurt you.”

 

Harry leaned into him with a small sigh.  “It’s not…”  He took a deep breath.  He’d never had this conversation with Ginny, partially because she’d known some of it and partially because he’d been dead set against it.  And, looking back, there was a good chance that his unwillingness to talk about the Dursleys had played a part in the demise of their relationship.  “You know that I grew up with my mother’s sister?” he asked finally.

 

“I didn’t know that,” Neville said.  “You never talked much about your home life.”

 

“That’s because it was awful,” Harry finally said with a small, sad sigh.  “I hate talking about this, but I think… you deserve to know the truth of what you’re getting in to with me.”

 

“Harry,” Neville breathed.  He tilted Harry’s head towards him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

Harry shook his head.  “No, see, there’s a lot wrong with me, and it’s sweet of you to keep saying otherwise, but Neville, I’m a mess.”  Once he’d started talking, Harry found that he couldn’t make himself stop the outpouring of words.  “I don’t deal well with aggression, I never have.  I’d rather hide than fight when it’s someone I care about, and I hate it when people that I care for are angry with me.  I’ve spent the past two weeks feeling like… like…  like I was on eggshells, like you hated me, and it doesn’t matter because I know that you don’t, I just...  I don’t eat when I’m stressed because the Dursleys liked to starve me—”

 

“They did what?” Neville shouted.  He didn’t pull away from Harry, but Harry didn’t miss the fact that his partner’s hand was on his wand, his grip white-knuckled.

 

Harry flinched.  “They didn’t feed me much,” he whispered.  He looked down at his hands, which were tangling in his robe.  He jumped again when Neville’s hand landed on them, stilling them.  “They hated me,” he said quietly.   “They were frightened of magic.  They called me a freak.  When I did accidental magic, which happened… frequently, they would lock me in my cup… in my room.”

 

Neville’s eyes were burning when Harry dared glance up at him.  “Where would they lock you, Harry?” he asked, his voice steady.  It was easy to see the Gryffindor in him when he was as angry as he was in that moment.

 

Harry swallowed.  “My room, growing up, was the cupboard under the stairs,” he said.  He didn’t look away this time.  “They only moved me when my Hogwarts letters started coming, because they were afraid that I was being watched.  I wasn’t, not really, but they gave me Dudley’s second bedroom, then.”

 

Neville drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and when he opened them he almost looked calm except for the way that his eyes still burned.  “I’d ask you if they were still alive, if they were ever punished, but somehow I think that I would have heard if they’d died or if they’d gone to trial.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “The last I knew, they were still alive.  I see Dudley occasionally.  He turned out not too terrible, considering how bad his parents were.”

 

Neville placed a hand on his cheek, then drew Harry in for a long, soft kiss.  When he pulled back, he left his hand in place and said, “I want you to know that, no matter how stressed I am over work or anything else, I will never hurt you.  And I will do better about controlling my irritability, so that you don’t ever have to feel… like you need to sneak around in your own home.  I never want you to feel like that, and I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.”

 

Harry let out a shaky sigh, the hard thing inside of him finally unfurling.  He leaned in for another kiss, and relaxed even further when Neville returned it easily.  “I love you,” Harry breathed when they pulled apart.  “And I was so… I spent the last week thinking that maybe you didn’t want to move in with me after all.”

 

Neville’s face crumpled.  “There’s nothing I want more than to move in with you,” he said.  “I’m so sorry that I put you through that.”  He pulled Harry into a hug.

 

Harry relaxed in Neville’s arms.  He wanted to say that it was okay, but it wasn’t.  Instead, he said quietly, “I forgive you.”

 

Neville’s arms tightened briefly.  “Are you hungry, since you brought food?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

 

Harry let out a shaky laugh and shook his head.  His stomach was still churning, and the food that he’d brought for them was too rich for him to eat when he was as worked up as he was.  “I’m really not,” he said.  “Not for what I brought, anyway.  I could maybe eat a few crackers?”

 

Neville helped him off the ground and grabbed the plate from the floor.  “We have those,” he said.  “Why don’t we have dinner together, or at least as much as you’re able to eat?”

 

Harry hesitated and glanced at the stack of parchment that didn’t look to have diminished at all in his absence.  “You… don’t you have papers to grade? That sort of thing?”

 

“I do,” Neville said.  “But they’ll keep.  My students might just have to wait a little bit longer than they would like to get them back, that’s all.  They’ll survive.”

 

Harry smiled.  “Okay,” he said quietly.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Morning dawned to the sound of banging on Harry’s door, sharp and impatient.  He didn’t particularly want to leave Neville’s embrace, but he didn’t have much of a choice when Neville got up instead and answered the door, still in his pajamas.

 

“Granger,” Neville said.  “Do you realize what time it is?”

 

Harry heard the quiet sound of Hermione’s laughter.  “Do you?” she countered.  “This is the time that you and Harry asked for help moving, isn’t it?  We even gave you a few extra minutes, just to make sure that you weren’t running late or anything.”

 

“ _ Tempus _ ,” Neville muttered.  “Oh.  Merlin’s pants.  We… overslept.  We’ll be out in a few minutes, okay?”

 

Harry heard the door close, and then the bed dipped as Neville returned to him.  “How much did we oversleep?” he asked tiredly.

 

“Well, they gave us an extra half hour, so…”

 

Harry groaned and dragged himself to a sitting position.  “I don’t want to move again,” he said, a bit petulantly.  “It’s exhausting.”

 

Neville smiled at him and tucked Harry’s hair behind his ear.  “It’s okay,” he said gently.  “We have plenty of help.  Everyone showed up, from the looks of our sitting room.”

 

Harry sighed and leaned in for a sleepy good morning kiss.  When he pulled away, Neville was practically beaming at him.  “You’re too cheerful for this early in the morning,” Harry said with a sigh.  “I don’t know that we can move in together after all.”

 

The whack with one of the pillows was not entirely unexpected, but still left Harry sputtering.  Of course, once he’d been struck with a pillow, he had to retaliate.  The resulting pillow fight stopped only when Hermione banged on the door again and shouted, “If you two don’t knock off whatever you’re doing in there, we’re coming in and hexing the lot of you!  Ginny’s been practicing her Bat-Bogey again!”

 

“Sorry!” Harry and Neville called in unison, then collapsed into quiet laughter.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

It was a contrite duo who joined the rest of their friends, and Harry’s children, to start the move.  Harry found, to his surprise, that it wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined it would be, at least not when he had so much help.  Albus was very good at organizing and boxing things, and Ginny was as good at directing the move as she was at hexing bogeys.

 

The day flew by, and it felt like they’d only just started moving when everything was unpacked and in its new place in their new rooms.  They were all lounging around the new living room, which was large enough for everyone plus about ten more people, when Hermione said, “Traditionally, in the Muggle world, the people who are moved are given pizza and beer.”

 

Harry looked up from where he’d collapsed on the floor at Neville’s feet and asked the most important question.  “Do house elves know how to make pizza?”

 

Hermione blinked at him.  She opened her mouth, then closed it with a frown.  “I don’t know,” she said finally.  “They never served it when we were students.”

 

“You could ask them, Dad, couldn’t you?” James asked.

 

Harry sighed.  He didn’t particularly want to move.  Still, he lifted his fingers to snap for an elf, in spite of the look it would get him from Hermione, when there was a banging on the door.  Harry frowned and lowered his hand.  “Who…” he started.

 

Before he could move to find out, Teddy was up and at the door.  He opened it, then Harry watched as his godson’s face dropped into a fearsome scowl.  “What do  _ you _ want?” he snapped.

 

There was a moment of silence, and Harry wondered if whoever it was had gone away.  Then he heard Lily say quietly, “I’d like to talk to my father, if that’s okay?”

 

Teddy didn’t move.  “Depends.  Are you going to be rotten to him?”

 

Harry was already getting up.  “Teddy,” he said quietly.  “Let me talk to Lily.”

 

Teddy scowled, but backed away from the door.  Rather than making Lily come in and say whatever it was that she wanted to in front of everyone, Harry slipped outside and faced her with a small frown.  “What is it, Lily?” he asked quietly.

 

His daughter’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and her cheeks were flushed with color.  If he didn’t know better, he might have thought her drunk.  “So you really moved in with him?” she asked, her voice tired and sad.

 

Harry sighed.  “I did,” he said.  “I love Neville very much, and he and I are going to try our hardest to be happy together.”

 

Lily’s face fell even further, and her lips started to tremble.  She blinked rapidly.  “Why couldn’t you have tried your hardest with Mum?” she asked, her voice choked.

 

“I tried very hard with your mother,” Harry countered.  “But she and I wanted two very different things out of life.”

 

Lily sniffled a little, and Harry watched as the tears she’d been trying to blink back began to fall.  “That’s what Mum said too,” she whispered through her tears.  “Daddy, I’m so sorry!” she wailed, and darted forward.  She flung her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.  “I’ve been so awful to you, and to Professor Longbottom!”

 

Harry hesitated, then carefully wrapped his arms around her, too.  “You really have,” he said dryly, and winced when she thumped him on the chest.  “You have,” he said again, “But I love you anyway.  And I know that this has been hard on you and your brothers, and I still love you so much, Lils.”

 

“Do you think that Professor Longbottom will ever forgive me?” she asked.  “Because I’ve been awful to him, too, and I know that he didn’t deserve it, and I—”

 

“I think that if your father can forgive you, I can too,” Neville said quietly.  Harry wasn’t sure when he’d joined them outside their rooms, but he was grateful that he had.

 

“And I do forgive you,” Harry said firmly.  He gripped Lily by the shoulders and pulled her back ever so slightly.  “But Lily, are you sure that you’re okay with this, now?  I don’t want there to be trouble later because you changed your mind.”

 

Lily sniffed and shook her head.  “Albus and James have both been telling me how stupid I’ve been, and I… I realized that they were right, and that I did a lot of really mean things because I was mad about you and Mum breaking up.  I’m not going to start causing trouble again, Dad, I promise.”

 

Harry tugged her back in for another hug.  “Okay,” he said.  He kissed her forehead, then pulled back.  “Do you want to join us for lunch?” he asked.  “We were just trying to figure out what to eat.”

 

Lily beamed at him.  “Free food, and I didn’t even have to do any of the moving?  Of course I’ll stay!”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Harry went to bed that night with his heart feeling lighter than he’d thought possible.  He had his daughter back, had all of his children, and his friends, and he had Neville.

 

And as his partner curled around him that night, Harry thought that he was the happiest that he’d ever been.  It wasn’t that everything was suddenly perfect, because nothing was ever perfect.  Molly still wasn’t talking to him, he was still a wreck from the way things had been with the Dursleys, and Neville’s grandmother was still awful.

 

But it was good, and Harry thought that was all that mattered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends, this story that was originally only supposed to be a one-shot.  It was originally supposed to be under 10,000 words, you know.  You can all see how that turned out.
> 
> So, even though this is the end, there’s a lot more that I could do in this universe, and I might write a few actual one-shots later (but no promises).  Just in case I don’t, I’d like you all to know that, at least in my head, Molly and Harry do eventually reconcile, and Neville becomes an honorary Weasley.  Neville and his grandmother, however, likely remain at odds for the rest of her life.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the story!


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